The Eye of the Giant

THE EYE OF THE GIANT
AN ORIGINAL NOVEL FEATURING THE THIRD DOCTOR, LIZ
SHAW, MIKE YATES AND UNIT.
‘I MIGHT HAVE KNOWN IT,’ THE BRIGADIER SAID TERSELY.
‘THE DOCTOR AND MISS SHAW HAVE MANAGED TO LOSE
THEMSELVES ON AN ISLAND THAT DOESN’T EXIST.’
1934: Salutua, a legendary lost island in the Pacific. Millionaire
Marshal J Grover’s expedition arrives to uncover and exploit its
secrets. But the task is complicated by a film star’s fears and
ambitions and a scientist’s lethal obsession.
Nearly forty years later: UNIT headquarters, London. The Doctor
and Liz Shaw are asked to identify a mysterious artifact and trace
its origin. The trail leads them back in time to Salutua and a
gigantic discovery. Meanwhile, the Brigadier faces and epidemic
of UFO sightings and supernatural occurrences that threaten to
bring about global panic. Only the Doctor can help him — but he’s
trapped on a mythical island four decades in the past.
This adventure takes place between the television stories
INFERNO and TERROR OF THE AUTONS.
Christopher Bulis has writeen three previous Doctor Who books,
including the highly acclaimed The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.
ISBN 0 426 20469 7
THE EYE OF THE
GIANT
Christopher Bulis
First published in Great Britain in 1996 by
Doctor Who Books
an imprint of Virgin Publishing Ltd
332 Ladbroke Grove
London W10 5AH
Copyright © Christopher Bulis 1996
The right of Christopher Bulis to be identified as the Author
of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
’Doctor Who’ series copyright © British Broadcasting
Corporation 1996
ISBN 042 6204 697
Cover illustration by Paul Campbell
Typeset by TV/ Typesetting, Plymouth, Devon
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Mackays of Chatham PLC
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any
resemnblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by
way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or
otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written
consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published and without a similar condition including
this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Prologue
With a sudden brilliant coruscation of violently discharged
energy, two vessels tumbled out of the abstract reality of
hyperspace and into the ecliptic plane of a yellow star system.
The smaller of the pair, a dull black egg, fired again, but
the plasma bolt flared harmlessly off the force shield of the
larger, silver grey globe. The black egg applied full power to
its drive in an attempt to flee its relentless pursuer, but some
invisible force seemed to hold it back. A scintillating annulus
of crackling blue flame appeared in the blackness between the
warring craft, as the egg’s pilot tried to shear through the
tractor beam. But the beam held, and slowly, inexorably, the
distance between the two decreased.
Suddenly the egg turned about.
Its main drive, which had a moment before been striving to
escape the tractor beam, now added its force to the vector of
attraction. As the egg plunged recklessly towards the globular
craft, it cut loose its entire remaining battery of weapons at
maximum power and rate of fire. A bouquet of plasma bolts
blossomed against the other’s shield, and a rapier-thin lance of
blue flame lashed out to blaze against the immaterial barrier,
flickering as it probed for the frequency window through
which the tractor beam passed.
Fearing that the egg’s pilot intended to sell his life dearly
by attempting to crash his vessel through their shield, the
occupants of the globe reversed the polarity of their beam,
converting it into a repeller. But as the beam changed, the
frequency of the operating window adjusted to match, and, for
a split second, a gap opened in the shield. And, for an even
smaller fraction of time, the frequency of the attacking beam
matched that gap. In that instant, the beam flared into eyesearing overload then died, its projector burned out. But it had
been long enough.
Intolerable energy lashed across the globe’s hull. Even its
thick shell of stressed and toughened ceramic could not
withstand such temperature. Nothing material could. A long
gash vaporized and boiled away, opening the interior of the
globe to space. A jet of fluid erupted through the breech,
condensing into a plume of sparkling crystals. The rent in the
suddenly unequally stressed hull opened further, then the
whole craft split open like a bursting balloon under massive
internal pressure. Power cells shorted out and exploded with
crackling flashes of artificial lightning, wreaking further
havoc. An expanding cloud of misty vapour swelled into
space, carrying with it shattered debris from the ship’s interior
and the shapeless forms of the creatures that had been its
crew, their bodies ruptured and bloated by explosive
decompression.
Through the cloud flew the surviving craft, dodging
frantically to avoid the larger fragments. Then it passed out
into open space again and was clear.
Brokk watched on the main screen as the image of the
cloud fell away behind him, and, with relief, lowered his own
force shield. He glanced at the insulated locker containing the
precious package, and thought of the price he would get for its
contents on a certain world he knew. Yes, it had been worth
the risk. That transaction would set him up for life. Now, all
he had to do was recharge his systems for re-entry to
hyperspace –
An alarm sounded.
Brokk’s hand flashed towards the force field switch a
fraction too late.
The craft shook as an explosion destroyed his hyperdrive
unit. Torn fragments of hull panelling twinkled briefly across
the monitors before fading away into the blackness.
Even as Brokk wrestled with the stabilizers, forcing his
craft back on an even keel, he realized what had hit him and
cursed the Semquess’s tenacity. It had been a retribution
missile, triggered by the demise of the mother ship and ejected
clear even as it was destroyed. It had been programmed to
attack when his guard was down. But then, why was he not
dead? Of course! It was designed specifically to destroy his
hyperdrive, to disable, not kill. The Semquess still wanted
what he had intact, if possible. He could be sure that even now
another of their ships was homing in on the last transmission
of the lost craft. And they would have little difficulty finding
him. Even if they did not arrive for several dex, the distance
he could travel through real space in that time was
insignificant.
Unless he could hide, of course.
Cautiously, he set his instruments scanning the system into
which the Semquess’s attack had precipitated him. The results
were not promising. There was only one tolerable planet
orbiting close to the central star, and it was at least six dex’s
travel away. As he debated whether to risk the journey, there
came an ominous creaking from the hull, and several warning
lights began to flicker on his control console. That missile had
done more damage than he had thought. He needed to make
some sort of landfall quickly for repairs. But where? There
was one world relatively close by. It was part of a twin planet
system, within a dex’s travel, which he had initially dismissed
out of hand because he would need a full life-support suit to
survive on it. Even its cold but airless lesser companion was
more inviting, as no Grold would willingly set down on such a
high gravity world so far from its sun, and bathed in a thick,
murky, freezing atmosphere. But then, perhaps the Semquess
would reason that way as well...
Another warning creak decided him. As he set course,
meters showed that the cabin pressure was dropping. He
cursed again as he put on a breathing mask and turned up the
heaters. He would need to be fully suited before daring even
to enter the planet’s atmosphere, for he could not risk coming
in direct contact with that freezing, heat absorbent muck.
Never mind! It would not be comfortable, but he would find
some remote place and conceal himself while he made repairs.
He would survive.
That was the Grold way.
Brokk looked again at the locker and thought of what it
contained. He would never let the Semquess have them back.
They were his prize, hard earned. After all, he’d stolen them,
hadn’t he?
One
‘E
ight fathoms and shelving...’
The cry of the linesman on the prow drifted back to
the small group lining the starboard rail of the Constitution III.
Distantly they heard the bridge telegraph ring, and the
throbbing note of the engines slowed and deepened. Amelia
Grover held her breath as the big yacht edged towards the gap
in the reef. It was uncomfortably narrow, and the Constitution
had a broader beam than the usual slender island schooner. In
compensation, of course, no schooner had such horsepower at
its disposal.
She saw Nancy Norton (she always thought of her by her
screen name, never as her stepmother bearing the family
name), eyes wide with affected alarm, cling to her father,
encouraging him to put a reassuring arm around her as she
rested her improbably blonde head against his shoulder.
Nancy was good at clinging to people when it suited her,
Amelia had noted. It was probably some of her better acting.
‘Are you sure we can make it, Mr Grover?’ asked
Lawrence de Veer queasily, gripping the rail firmly against
the increasing pitch and roll of the ship, his voice rising over
the slap of water against the hull and the steady background
boom and roar of waves breaking over several miles of coral
reef. Once, when Amelia had visited Paragon Studios, shortly
after her father had bought them, she had seen de Veer
directing Nancy in a few scenes of a film. She had thought of
him then as being terribly autocratic and domineering. Now he
just looked slightly sea-sick.
‘Pascoe’s the best captain I ever had,’ her father growled
back. ‘He’ll get us through.’ He glanced at Amelia. ‘You’re
not worried are you, Amy?’
‘’Course I’m not, Pa,’ Amelia reassured him.
With a scowl Grover did not see, Nancy gently
disentangled herself from his arm and stood straight by his
side again, just to show she could be as unconcerned as
anybody else. Around them white water frothed about the
coral heads as they played their treacherous game of peek-aboo in the Pacific swell, which, even this close to land,
Amelia knew could silently snatch two or three fathoms of
clear water from under the keel without warning.
Beside her, Michael Montgomery, Paragon’s most famous
leading man, peered curiously over the rail and blanched
visibly at the sight. His handsome if now slightly puffy
features contorted into a grimace, and he tottered back
theatrically, reaching for his familiar hip flask as though
inviting sympathy at his discomfiture. Amelia liked him least
at such moments. She had once had a juvenile crush on him,
years ago, when his face had peered out of so many posters
and billboards. The reality of observing him at close quarters
for the two weeks they had been at sea had dispelled any
lingering fascination, leaving a wistful sadness in its wake.
The two remaining figures by the rail, Amelia noticed,
appeared to be immune to the potential danger of their
situation.
Hubert Dodgeson, a senior studio cameraman, had
temporarily relinquished his movie camera for a compact
Lieca, with which he was now enthusiastically recording their
passage through the reef. Even as Amelia watched, he leant
dangerously over the rail and snapped away happily, his
spectacles pushed back on to his forehead, his normal
reticence quite absent for the moment.
Professor Sternberg, in his perpetually crumpled tropical
whites, seemed for his part to be too intent on their goal to be
concerned about their immediate situation. He gazed eagerly
ahead, mopping his brow with a sweat-stained handkerchief.
Perhaps two miles away across the sheltered lagoon,
Salutua lay like an emerald gem stone, mounted on the
encircling band of the reef that embraced it. Around the
island, the sapphire blue of the Pacific shaded through
cerulean into turquoise, and the sudden white gold intensity of
the scalloped line of beaches was presided over by the
inevitable fringe of nodding palm trees. A thick mantle of
verdure covered all the island, save only for the truncated
summit of its highest peak, from which trailed a thin streamer
of steam and smoke. Amelia saw an expression of wonder and
hope flit across Sternberg’s face as he took in the panorama.
‘Are we through yet?’ Montgomery enquired plaintively,
his eyes cast very deliberately heavenward, clutching his flask
like a talisman.
‘Just about, Mr Montgomery,’ Dodgeson replied, as he
wound on his camera. ‘Hey, what’s that –’
There came the tremor of an impact.
The ship rolled and its prow lifted, as though it were riding
over some smooth solid body, and they staggered to keep
upright. There was a groan of metal. Something exploded
below the water line almost underneath them, driving a shock
wave through the ship’s frame that smacked the deck against
their feet and sent a waterspout thirty feet into the air,
showering them with spray. The Constitution pitched and
wallowed. An alarm bell clanged. They could hear orders
being shouted from the bridge and there came the pounding of
running feet as seamen scrambled to their posts. The ship
settled, but with a slight list to starboard.
‘Mein Gott! We are sinking!’ Sternberg choked wildly.
‘Keep a grip on yourself, man!’ Grover commanded.
Nancy was clinging to him in genuine alarm now, and for
once Amelia could not blame her. She found her own hand
automatically reaching for the tiny silver crucifix she wore
round her neck. ‘Everybody, let’s stay out of the crew’s way,’
Grover continued. ‘They know their jobs. Fetch some life
preservers from the locker over there. Girls, I want you to put
them on just in case...’
David Ferraro, the Constitution’s first officer, half slid
down the companionway from the bridge even as the beat of
the motors rose and the yacht began to make way again. His
handsome, slightly hard latin features broke into an
unaccustomed smile of relief when he saw they were all
unharmed.
‘What’s going on, Ferraro?’ Grover asked quickly.
‘We’ve been holed below the water line, Mister Grover.
The pumps are going and we’re trying to plug it. Skipper
requests you all stand by a lifeboat but don’t board yet. If he
can beach us before we take on too much water we should be
okay.’
‘Understood. Do what you have to. Don’t worry about us.’
Ferraro headed for the lower deck.
Amelia watched as the island grew larger with agonizing
slowness while the list increased perceptibly. Her father
squeezed her hand reassuringly. In response, Nancy pressed
closer to Grover, no doubt feeling that as a second wife, even
if of only a few months’ standing, she took precedence. A
look of dismay suddenly crossed her flawlessly made-up face
and set her minutely plucked eyebrows arching.
‘Marshal – my jewel case. It’s in the cabin. I must get it.’
‘Never mind about that now, Honey. Nobody’s going to
their cabins if they don’t have to until we’re safely beached,
just in case. I can always buy you more diamonds.’
For the next minute it was oddly silent, except for the throb
of the engines and distant shouted orders from below. Miss
Ellis, Grover’s mousy, unassuming and indispensable
secretary, calmly appeared in their midst beside Grover. She
was already wearing a life jacket and carried her father’s
personal valise. Amelia smiled at her in relief. Nothing ever
seemed to ruffle Miss Ellis’s calm.
Meanwhile, Sternberg fretted over the ties of his life jacket.
‘Don’t worry, Prof,’ said Montgomery amiably, the
contents of the hip flask having apparently served their
purpose. ‘Abandoning ships’s no problem. Done it myself a
dozen times. Sometimes even with the ship on fire, and twice
in the Arctic. ’Least the water’s warm here.’
‘Yes, yes!’ Sternberg snapped back at him nervously.
‘Your so wonderful play-acting on the motion picture screen I
have seen. But I have also seen what can happen to men in
warm waters such as these, if there are sharks present!’
‘Sharks!’ Montgomery tottered for a moment, then
appeared to gather fresh resolution. ‘Doesn’t matter. In Master
of the Spanish Main I killed one with my bare hands!
Remember that, de Veer? You directed. Damn fine picture...’
‘Montgomery, shut up!’ the director retorted.
The shoreline seemed to crawl closer with agonizing
slowness, even though the Constitution was surging across the
lagoon at full speed. They could hear the muffled sounds of
the repair party working furiously below decks, but the list
was still increasing.
‘Pa,’ Amelia said quietly. ‘Do you think we should move
over to the port rail – just in case?’
Nancy’s eyes widened at the implication, giving Amelia a
brief, guilty glow of pleasure. ‘We’re going to turn over!’
‘No, Honey,’ Grover insisted placatingly. ‘She won’t turn
turtle on us. Amy’s just being cautious. She’s a good ship.
We’re going to make it. Look, we’re nearly there. Brace
yourselves...’
Suddenly a stretch of white beach seemed to rush towards
them. At the last minute they heard the Captain ring all stop.
Momentum carried them onwards. They surged through the
rolling waves and struck with a hissing rush, throwing up a
plume of spray and sand. The prow gouged into the sand with
a groaning of tortured hull plates. But the shallow contour of
the beach saved them from further damage, slowing them
gradually, and, with a slight judder, the Constitution ground to
a halt.
For a moment it was amazingly quiet on the brilliantly
sunlit shore, except for the whisper of a light breeze disturbing
the palm fronds, and the distant call of a bird from somewhere
deeper inland. The lush smell of green plants and scented
blossoms wafted across them, underlain with the rank taint of
decay.
The yacht had ridden half out of the water, sitting almost
perfectly upright laterally, but five or six degrees off vertical
along the keel line. Hidden by the curve of the hull, water
gushed back out on to the sand from the breach that had come
so close to sinking them. Even as they gathered their wits and
felt relief dawning, orders were shouted and the crew began to
swing the railed steps of the accommodation ladder over the
yacht’s side and lower the free end to the sand. An inspection
crew rapidly began to muster at its head.
‘I’m going below to have a look at the damage and talk to
Pascoe,’ said Grover, shedding his life jacket. ‘You’d better
all wait in the saloon.’
‘Fine idea,’ Montgomery asserted. ‘I could do with a
drink.’ For once everybody agreed with him.
Amelia felt secure inside the saloon of the Constitution. Most
of the memories associated with it were good ones. It was
long, spacious and amply supplied with low, comfortable club
chairs, recliners and card tables. The thick piled carpet was
further overlaid by a scattering of oriental rugs. Curios
gathered from all over the Pacific and mounted photographs
of several ships adorned the walls, including a picture of the
Constitution when it was just a humble light freighter: the first
ship Grover had ever owned outright. This was before the refit
which extended her superstructure and cabin space, and turned
her into the mobile office and private yacht of the president of
the Greater Pacific and Oriental Shipping Company. Framed
movie posters were more recent additions to the gallery,
several of which featured likenesses of Nancy and
Montgomery in starring roles. Beside them was an aerial
photograph of a complex of cavernous, hangar-like buildings,
inscribed: PARAGON FILM STUDIOS - JANUARY 1934.
One corner of the room contained a compact but
comprehensive bar, with glittering rows of bottles and glasses
securely restrained behind brass rails. It was to this that
Montgomery automatically gravitated, casting an anxious,
paternal eye over its contents to ensure nothing had been
damaged. Apparently satisfied, he took on his self-appointed
role as barman and proceeded amiably to distribute
restoratives to the rest of the company. He even remembered
Amelia’s alcohol free fruit juice cocktail, which she had to
admit he mixed well. She did not approve of his drinking, or
his other rumoured habits, but at least he never challenged her
own faith and abstinence.
De Veer observed the actor’s loving and skilful
manipulation of the drink mixing paraphernalia. ‘How in
heaven did you survive Prohibition, Montgomery?’ he
enquired.
Montgomerey raised his glass in a convivial salute. ‘By
knowing the address of every speakeasy in five states and
never drawing an entirely sober breath for fourteen years,’ he
declared simply.
Dodgeson had seated himself beside Sternberg, looking
thoughtful as he put his camera back in its case. Amelia heard
him say curiously:
‘I’m sure I saw something odd in the water just before we
hit whatever it was. Some kind of large round ball.’
Sternberg paused in his apparently habitual brow mopping.
‘Ach, what are you saying? You mean a mine left over from
the Great War? What would one be doing here?’
‘No, it was far too smooth.’
‘Then it must have been a brain coral. They can grow two
metres across – six or eight feet – I have seen.’
Dodgeson continued to look doubtful.
Her father and Miss Ellis entered, she calmly taking down
his brisk instructions on her shorthand pad as though they had
just docked in Honolulu. Everybody turned expectantly
towards him.
‘Right, here’s how things stand,’ he began in his gruff,
straightforward way. ‘We’re safe enough for the moment,
’long as we don’t mind the deck being out of level. But there’s
a hole in the hull nearly three feet across, and some internal
damage, which is going to take maybe a couple of days to fix.’
‘Any idea what caused it, Pa?’ Amelia asked.
‘It wasn’t a coral spur, that’s for sure, Amy. Looks more
like an explosion, except there’s no scorching or powder
marks.’
‘But even if the repairs are successful, can we get afloat
again?’ de Veer asked anxiously. ‘Shouldn’t we radio for
help?’
‘We’ll be fixed up again before anybody could reach us,’
Grover assured him. ‘High tide and the winch’ll get us free, de
Veer, don’t worry.’ He frowned. ‘Besides, we can’t call for
help. The radio’s out of order. Picking up nothing but static.’
‘Did the impact damage it, Mr Grover?’ Dodgeson asked.
‘No. It happened before we reached the reef. The operator
was just going to tell Pascoe about it when that blast hit us.’
‘Could this failure be connected with that most unusual
phenomena we passed through earlier?’ Sternberg wondered,
but Nancy interrupted his speculations.
‘I don’t care, I just want to go home as soon as possible!’
she snapped petulantly. ‘This place is going to be a miserable
waste of time, full of mosquitoes and bugs and snakes. Why
can’t we film in the studios, Marshal?’
Grover looked uncomfortable. ‘You know why we think
Salutua is special, Nancy. If we’re right, we can get some
footage here that you couldn’t fake up in any studio. It’ll be
spectacular! The film of the century! And you’ll be the star.’
Nancy stood up and smoothed down her dress very
deliberately. ‘I can do better than being a secondhand Fay
Wray!’ she retorted haughtily, and flounced out.
There was an awkard silence. De Veer rose. ‘Don’t worry,
Mr Grover. I’ll have a word with her. She’ll come round.’
And he followed Nancy out.
‘If you don’t need me for anything else, sir?’ Miss Ellis
murmured, and departed silently.
‘I’d better check on my cameras,’ Dodgeson muttered to
nobody in particular, and slipped away in turn.
Sternberg spoke up. He had risen and was peering intently
out of the saloon windows at the line of palm trees and the
thick forest rising behind them. ‘Well, I for one am grateful to
be here at last, Mr Grover. We have had a mishap, that is all.
A few repairs are needed. But we came prepared to stay for
two, three weeks, so what is that?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I wish
to begin my researches as soon as possible.’
‘Remember not to go inland without an armed escort,
Professor. Like we agreed,’ Grover reminded him.
‘Naturally, I shall not take foolish risks, you may be sure.
But there are several hours of daylight left, and I do not want
to waste any time.’ He gestured dramatically. ‘Who knows
what discoveries await us?’ Then he seemed to realize where
he was, glanced around almost guiltily, and walked quickly
out.
‘Well said, Prof.’ Montgomery applauded the departing
figure, then turned to Grover. ‘Don’t worry about me, old
man,’ he said reassuringly. ‘As long as the bar’s open you
won’t hear any complaints from this direction. Just let me
know if there’s an early call tomorrow.’ He wove his way out
in the direction of his cabin, leaning against the slope of the
deck.
Left alone with her father, Amelia wondered once again if
she should try to encourage him to take a firmer hand with
Nancy. The woman behaved like a selfish, spoiled child
sometimes, as everybody else could plainly tell. But it was
one of his few blind spots. And Nancy, for all her faults, did
seem to make him happy most of the time. There had been
years, after her mother’s death, when Amelia thought he
would never smile or laugh again. So instead, she simply took
his hand and kissed his forehead where his hair was starting to
recede.
‘Why, Pa,’ she said lightly, ‘I know you wanted to get me
away from ‘Frisco for a change, but did you have to maroon
me on a desert island to do it?’
Grover chuckled. ‘Ah, you caught me out there, Amy. Now
you know the truth. Still, it looks like you’ll have to put up
with it for a few days, anyway.’
‘Looks like it,’ she agreed brightly. ‘So I suppose I’d better
check that Mister Chow isn’t throwing an oriental fit again,
and he has everything straight in his galley. Otherwise we’ll
all have to live on coconuts, and I think that would be taking
things a little far, don’t you?’
Marshal J. Grover watched his daughter leave the saloon with
loving, yet sad eyes.
As always, the sleeve of her blouse was folded and pinned
up neatly, where her left arm was missing from just above the
elbow.
‘I’d do anything for you, Amy,’ he murmured to himself.
Two
S
ergeant Mike Yates examined the documentation
accompanying the security sealed container with interest,
while the armed military courier loomed over him, stoically
waiting for his receipt.
The container itself, sitting on the main gate guardroom
desk, was liberally plastered with permit numbers and
transportation orders, which had allowed it to travel half way
round the world with official sanction. Stark black and yellow
radiation warning stickers added ominous splashes of colour
to the collection. The actual description of its contents,
however, was a masterpiece of minimally informative
succinctness and brevity: ‘One artifact – origin unknown’.
This phrase caused Mike to pause in the act of checking the
paperwork and raise an amused eyebrow, but he made no
further comment. After all, UNIT specialized in the unknown.
Mike signed the final receipt with a flourish and handed it
over. The military messenger saluted perfunctorily, and
returned to his unmarked, nondescript delivery van, parked in
the basement car park with its peeling whitewashed walls. The
engine growled into life and the vehicle drove out through the
gate of the equally nondescript building in a quiet London
backstreet. UNIT’s British headquarters had a slightly run
down but genteel air about it, suggesting that it belonged to
one of the less prestigious civil service departments, and
hardly worth a second glance from any passer-by. Which was
precisely the desired effect, of course.
Somewhat gingerly, Mike carried the package upstairs to
the Brigadier’s office. In the corridor outside it he found John
Benton, at present UNIT’s only other sergeant, standing
quietly holding a sheaf of day reports, and trying not to look
as though he was aware of the rising murmur of the one-sided
conversation taking place on the other side of the door. There
was a broad grin over his good-humoured features.
‘Has he got someone in there?’ Mike whispered, joining
Benton.
‘No, he’s on the phone. Tearing a strip off some Whitehall
warrior. For all the good it’ll do.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘Money, of course. What you got there?’
‘A mystery present from the antipodes.’
‘Eh?’
‘Something our Australian section thought we might be
interested in.’
‘Well we’d better not have to pay for the return postage,
that’s all...Ah, there he goes.’
With some final cutting remarks, delivered in unmistakably
exasperated tones, there came the clatter of a receiver being
replaced firmly on its cradle. Mike saw Benton silently
counting to ten, then cautiously knock on the door and enter.
Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart was clearly
not in a good mood. His moustache bristled and his brow
furrowed. He glared at the new arrivals.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘Just the routine reports, sir,’ said Benton quickly,
depositing the papers in a tray and making a hasty withdrawal,
leaving Mike in the firing line.
‘What on earth have you got there, Yates? It’s not
Christmas already, is it?’
‘No, sir. Canberra sent this over thinking we might be able
to tell them what it is.’ Mike handed over the explanatory
document which had accompanied the container, and the
Brigadier read it through rapidly. As he did so his expression
changed from annoyance to mild amusement.
‘Well I must say that’s a novel place for it to turn up.’ He
chuckled. ‘And now they can’t make head nor tail of it, so
they’ve passed it on to us. Oh well, I suppose the Doctor and
Miss Shaw can take a look at it.’
‘The Doctor, sir?’ Mike repeated, with interest.
‘You’ve seen him about haven’t you, Yates?’
‘Only in passing, sir. I’ve heard about him quite a bit,
naturally, but I haven’t had much to do with him directly.’
‘Of course, you’ve been heading the clean-up squad so far.
What do you think of the work?’
‘Well, it has its moments. But, speaking frankly, sir,
scouring the countryside for leftover fragments of Autons or
cave lizard devices, and trying to keep too many people from
realizing what really happened as you go – it’s not exactly
what I expected.’
‘So you want to see a little more front line action?’
Mike looked uncomfortable. The Brigadier smiled
understandingly.
‘Nothing to be ashamed of, Yates – if you’re up to it...’ He
subjected the lean, intense young sergeant to a moment’s
thoughtful scrutiny, then appeared to reach a decision. ‘Pull
up a chair,’ he directed. Mike did so, and the Brigadier looked
at him seriously. ‘Do you know who I was just talking to on
the phone?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Sir John Sudbury of C-19. He acts as financial liaison
between us and the government. I was trying to find out why
my request for an additional allocation so that we can at least
have a captain on our strength again, has been turned down. I
was informed that “in the present financial climate” we would
have to make do with what we’ve got.’ He glowered. ‘Most
unsatisfactory, but there it is.’
‘We’ll manage, sir.’
‘I hope so, Yates. You’d think that after half a dozen
confirmed attempts by alien forces to invade Earth, in addition
to certain other incidents, that the only organization
specifically set up to counter such threats would receive
adequate funding. But apparently, between UN budgetary
wrangling and British bureaucracy, that is not so. While the
politicians can keep the full truth from the population at large,
they seem to think they can treat our finances along with the
indents for next year’s supply of paper clips!’
Mike had rarely seen his commanding officer so angry.
Feeling that something was expected of him, he said brightly:
‘Then we’ll just have to make up in quality what we lack in
quantity, won’t we, sir?’
The Brigadier smiled tightly. ‘Quite so, Yates. Which
means additional responsibility is going to fall on Benton and
yourself. So you’d better become thoroughly familiar with all
aspects of UNIT’s functions. And you may as well start with
our scientific team. Bring that parcel along and you can meet
them properly.’
With the exception of the totally incongruous police telephone
box standing in one corner, the high-ceilinged laboratory with
its tall, square-paned windows, - and shelves and cabinets full
of electronic equipment and bottles of chemicals, reminded
Mike a little of a certain school science lab that he had spent
many uncomfortable hours in some years before, goggling
uncomprehendingly at the abstruse formulas that the teacher
would dash off on the blackboard. Perhaps, of course, if his
teacher had resembled Miss Shaw, he might have tried harder.
At the moment, however, neither UNIT’s undeniably
attractive female scientific adviser, nor her colleague, the
Doctor, appeared to realize they had visitors. Their backs to
the door, they both had their heads buried in the halfdismantled innards of a peculiar, freestanding hexagonal
control unit that was topped by a glittering, complex
mechanism encased in a glass cylinder, the function of which
Mike could not even begin to guess at. Slightly muffled, there
came the sounds of an incomprehensible scientific dialogue.
‘Perhaps it’s the time phase oscillator?’
‘No, that’s in balance now.’
‘The photon accelerator coils?’
‘Hardly likely.’
‘What about the tachyon beam collimator?’
‘Well, what about it?’
Elizabeth Shaw withdrew from the device and straightened
up angrily, tossing back her mane of long blonde hair. ‘I’m
only trying to help, Doctor!’
The Doctor quickly straightened in turn, his tone abruptly
softening. ‘My dear Liz, please excuse me. I truly am most
grateful for your assistance, but’ – he ran his fingers irritably
through his shock of white hair and scratched the back of his
head, a scowl of puzzlement on his craggy, distinguished
features – ‘it’s just that it really should work properly now. I
got so close during the Inferno project –’
‘Doctor, you nearly got stranded in that parallel dimension
the console took you to, remember?’
‘Ah, yes, but I know what went wrong. At least, I think I do
–’
The Brigadier, piqued at being ignored for so long, cut in.
‘If you don’t mind, Doctor, Miss Shaw. Perhaps you can tear
yourself away from tinkering with that machine for a moment.
We do have an official piece of work for you.’
The two scientists turned round in mild surprise at the
interruption.
‘Oh, hallo there, Brigadier. What can we do for you?’ The
Doctor beamed back at him amiably.
‘Sergeant Yates has just received this item from Australia.’
Mike put down the container on a bench and handed over the
sheaf of technical notes to the Doctor, who flipped through
them with remarkable speed. Liz, noting the radiation stickers,
went to fetch a geiger counter, and ran it over the package.
‘As you can see,’ continued the Brigadier, ‘it was found in the
Pacific somewhere northeast of New Zealand, inside a shark’s
stomach, of all places. Apparently the creatures do eat odd
things at times. This particular snack, however, seems to have
been a little too much and it killed it. Fortunately its carcass
was picked up by a scientific survey vessel, who recognized
they had found something odd. Because of the radioactivity,
the military were alerted.’ Liz carefully broke the seals on the
container, then she donned a pair of heavy gloves and
unlatched the lid. ‘At first they thought it might be a fragment
from an old atomic test or a lost nuclear submarine, but
chemical analysis revealed it was some sort of synthetic alloy,
combining the properties of both ceramics and metals. It
doesn’t match anything known.’ Liz reached into the
container with a pair of long-handled tongs, and carefully
withdrew the artifact. Mike and the Brigadier automatically
took a pace backwards.
‘It’s all right,’ Liz reassured them. ‘The radiation is low
level. I’m only being careful just in case.’ She deposited the
object on a stand in a heavy lead glass isolation cabinet and
closed the lid.
The mysterious artifact was a twisted, silvery white
lozenge, about a foot long. The remains of machined edges
could still be seen along one side. Cut into one of its flatter
planes was a string of odd looking characters.
‘Ah, yes. That’s what I want you to look at especially,’ the
Brigadier explained. ‘If those marks are writing, then it’s in no
language known on Earth.’ He looked at the Doctor hopefully.
‘You can’t read it, I suppose?’
The Doctor smiled, tossed aside the notes, and peered
intently at the artifact. ‘My dear Lethbridge-Stewart, there are
several million languages in this galaxy alone, a few of which
even I’ve never come across. But, it does look vaguely
familiar.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘If I can get the TARDIS
reference banks working properly, I might be able to translate
it for you.’
‘It is alien then?’
‘Oh yes, judging from the material analysis alone, there’s
no doubt about that.’
Mike had been listening to this remarkable exchange with
mounting interest and amazement. From the familiar way the
Doctor talked, it was almost as though he himself was...He
glanced again at the police box in the corner. Benton had told
Mike about the Doctor and his TARDIS, but, despite his
experiences over the last year, he had hardly believed him.
‘Well, do your best, Doctor,’ the Brigadier said. ‘I want to
know where the item came from and when it got here, if
possible. There’s no knowing how long it was in the ocean
before the shark found it, or how far it carried it before it died.
Is there some wrecked alien craft or device somewhere we
should know about? Does it pose any danger of
contamination? Liaise with Yates about anything you find and
he’ll keep me informed of your progress.’
But the scientists were not listening. They had already
become immersed in their new investigation.
‘What do you make of these readings, Doctor?’ Liz Shaw
asked, showing him the gauges of the detector built into the
isolation cabinet.
‘Omicron radiation. Of course, I might have guessed! Set
up the full analyser, Liz, while I fetch something from the
TARDIS. I know what we can use to track it down. Should
have thought about it before...Probably needs an overhaul, but
it should still work...’ His words trailed away as he hurried
over to the police box, opened its narrow door, and slipped
inside. Meanwhile, Liz wheeled over a trolley of complex
electrical equipment and began arranging it beside the cabinet.
The Brigadier motioned to Mike and they walked quietly
out of the laboratory, as unremarked as when they had
entered. In the corridor his lips twitched into a half smile.
‘And that is your first lesson, Yates. Terrible at taking orders,
these scientific types, but engage their curiosity and there’s no
stopping them. Let’s hope,’ he added dryly, ‘they find the
problem more digestible than the shark did!’
Three
N
ancy had not intended to see any more of the island than
the view from the deck. She had rebutted de Veer’s plea
to give Salutua a chance with a withering, ‘What are studio
stages and back lots for, then?’ and had shut the cabin door in
his face. She planned to sulk until Grover came down, all
anxious and apologetic, when she would proceed to twist him
skilfully round her little finger as usual, until he gave in to her
demands.
It had seemed such a good idea, just a few weeks ago, to
embark on a working cruise across the Pacific, scouting an
exotic, mysterious island for a possible film location. She had
never been abroad before, and Grover had always talked about
such places with infectious enthusiasm. But she had soon
discovered how much she was a city girl at heart. Despite the
spacious comforts of the Constitution, she had rapidly become
bored with ship life and disturbed by the endless, open ocean.
When they reached Tahiti, she found the primitive conditions
and the untamed hinterland of the island as unsettling, in its
own way, as the sea. It was a jungle every bit as unforgiving
as that of the brick and concrete one she had grown up in.
Except here she did not know its rules. As they had sailed on
south, her depression and unease had grown, despite Grover’s
best efforts to cheer her. They had searched until they found
Salutua. And now, just a few hours after the discovery, they
were marooned on its shore.
This was not an incident she had planned for the career of
Nancy Grover, nee Elza Mazowalski of Pittsburgh,
transformed by studio artifice and deed poll into that rising
star of the silver screen, Nancy Norton!
An hour passed. Grover did not come. The cabin grew hot
and stuffy as the sunlight glared back off the beach at the
exposed yacht. The ceiling fan did not seem to help, and, tilted
in common with the rest of the ship, it gave an annoying
squeak as it turned. Clanging began to reverberate through the
vessel, from both inside and out, as the men got to work on
the hull while the tide was low. There came the distant sound
of several pairs of feet on the gangway, as though a party had
just gone ashore, then silence descended, except for the
pounding repair work. Nancy felt a headache coming on. She
had Tilly, her maid, rub eau de Cologne into her temples, but
it didn’t help. Angrily, she realized she couldn’t stay inside
any longer. But she would make it obvious how unsuitable the
whole situation was for her.
She changed into a light, flowing summer dress, with
dainty, impractical shoes and a large sunhat. Picking up a
parasol, she strode out on deck, radiating injured forbearance.
It was unexpectedly deserted. The palm trees drooped along
the shore, and a few sea birds circled lazily in the hot sky
above, as though inspecting the yacht suspiciously. In the
tropics this was siesta time, and even with the yacht aground
this habit seemed to have quickly re-established its
slumberous routine on the ship’s company – almost. From
somewhere she could hear the distant clatter of a typewriter in
between the thumping on the metalwork. Except for Miss Ellis
and the repair crew, she amended. Leaning over the rail, she
saw Ferraro below supervising the rigging of a canvass
awning over the damaged section of the hull to shield the
workers from the high sun. A little way up the beach, Grover
was talking earnestly to Captain Pascoe and McCloud, their
engineer. She made for the accommodation ladder, now
secured down the ship’s side, a little surprised to find a sailor
carrying a rifle on guard at its head. She realized there were
two more armed sailors visible on the shore, standing in the
shade of the palms. The lower end of the ladder was resting on
a pontoon, with a length of duck-boarded walkway running up
the beach above the straggling line of flotsam that marked the
high tide mark. She descended and stepped off the boarding,
her heels sinking awkwardly into the soft white sand. A trail
of several pairs of footprints led up into the trees, suggesting
that the others had already begun exploring.
Nancy made her way over to the men. Pascoe touched his
hat politely.
‘Glad to see you’re feeling better, Mrs Grover. I hope the
repairs didn’t wake you.’
She realized Grover had explained her absence by implying
that she had been unwell. Before she could frame a suitable
response, her husband, smiling a little anxiously, said quickly:
‘That’s better, Nancy, get some fresh air. Maybe it’ll be cooler
in the trees. Say, why don’t you go after the others and take a
look around? Just a little way. You’ll be quite safe with a
guard. I’ll follow on in once we’ve got things sorted here.
This is really an incredible place. Think what we can do with
this as a backdrop for your picture.’
His whole manner was so full of concern and eagerness to
please, that Nancy realized it was not the time to complain
further. She acquiesced with a brave smile. ‘I’ll try, Marshal,’
she replied demurely.
‘That’s grand,’ he exclaimed with relief.
Pascoe called over to the guards for an escort. Ferraro came
across, a rifle under one arm. ‘I’ll be glad to go along with
Mrs Grover myself, sir. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of
her.’
Together they set out, and in a minute had passed through
the fringe of palms and into the forest proper. It was at least
cooler, if slightly more humid, than the beach. Despite her
own preoccupations, Nancy paused to take in the strange
scene. Gradually she began to realize what Grover had meant.
From the beach it had seemed as though the ground rose
steadily from the shore inland, judging by the tree tops lifting
beyond the palms. Now she saw that it was the trees
themselves that grew larger. There were split coconut shells
the size of melons on the ground, and wild banana trees
bowed down with monstrous bunches of the fruit. Soon they
were walking amongst veritable giants, their tremendous
girths dividing into ribbed buttress roots as they reached the
ground. Everything was tinted in a green twilight, with only a
few sunbeams penetrating to the surprisingly bare forest floor.
Where they did, however, great sprays of fern erupted, curling
high over her head, interspersed with shrubs sprouting waxy,
bottle green leaves as wide as her outstretched arms.
Feathering the lower trunks were shaggy vines and the slotted
leaves of cheese plants, questing skyward for the light and
climbing the mounds of earth about their bases, apparently
heaved upward by the splayed fingers of the great roots. The
faint path that the pair were on ran between the roots in the
miniature valleys thus formed, and Nancy felt that they were
walking in the cracks on the floor of some living cathedral,
with the tree columns reaching up to the distant leafy canopy
of the roof. But it was a constantly decaying structure. The
remains of many fallen trees lay across the forest floor, or
hung half way, caught by a tangle of rope-thick creepers.
Their trunks formed natural bridges and arches, and provided
growing space for brilliantly blossomed orchids and other
parasites.
It was a magnificent but unsettling scene. She could
believe anything might live here. It made her feel vulnerable
and insignificant, and she did not enjoy such sensations.
‘There’s something not right about this place,’ she
exclaimed aloud. Disquiet temporarily caused the veneer of
studio-taught elocution to slip, making her words
slightly.harsher than she intended and recalling the thick
accent of the mean streets she had been born in and had
worked so hard to escape.
Ferraro seemed not to notice her lapse. ‘It sure is odd, Mrs
Grover,’ he agreed. They heard voices from between the
towering trunks and picked their way towards them.
Sternberg had found a small open glade, and was busily
taking samples of plants and earth and any insects, all the
while muttering away half to himself in a mixture of English
and German, and occasionally Latin scientific nomenclature.
Two sailors cradling rifles watched on, mystified by his
excitement. Amelia, dressed in practical boots and breeches
and a pith helmet, was helping him with collecting bottles, and
taking a kindly interest in what he was doing. Even with one
arm she was unfailingly helpful and uncomplaining, thought
Nancy. Just for once she’d like to see her break down and
admit what she felt about being crippled.
Amelia saw them and smiled brightly. ‘Hallo, Nancy, Mr
Ferraro.’ Beside her, Ferraro was grinning back amiably,
which caused Nancy an additional frisson of jealously. People
liked Amelia automatically, whereas, beyond admiration for
her looks, Nancy knew that she had to work hard to be
appreciated for her own sake.
‘Is Larry de Veer around?’ Nancy asked coolly. ‘I want to
talk about the picture.’
‘Over there, I think.’ Amelia pointed through the trees,
then gave Nancy a searching look. ‘I’m glad you’re
reconsidering. I do hope you make the picture. It would make
Pa happy and might be good for the studio.’
Amelia was sincere, Nancy knew, but she was probably
privately doubtful of her motives. Despite her open,
apparently guileless nature, Amelia was no fool. She had
assessed Nancy’s motivation accurately from quite early in
their relationship. One day she had surprised Nancy by bluntly
informing her, in private, that she knew she was a gold digger,
but while she kept her father happy she would not interfere.
They had come to an unspoken understanding to be civil in
public and not to disagree on personal matters in front of
Grover. But they would never be friends.
‘Thank you, Amelia,’ Nancy said, with a thin smile. ‘I
hope so too.’
Then Sternberg came forward eagerly, thrusting a
collecting jar at Nancy. ‘See what wonders we have already
found!’ he exclaimed in delight. Nancy flinched. A huge,
glossy-black beetle, six inches long, was scrabbling futilely up
the sides of the glass prison. ‘You realize the usual size of
these creatures is no more than four centimetres – two inches
at most. Is it not magnificent!’
A memory came back to Nancy of the cockroaches that had
crawled across her bed when she was young. ‘Take that thing
away!’ she gasped.
Ferraro stepped forward. ‘That’s enough, Prof. Can’t you
see Mrs Grover doesn’t like bugs?’
Sternberg looked bemused. Amelia looked at Nancy
narrowly, then said: ‘I’m sorry it frightened you. Come on,
Professor. Let’s try over here.’
Queasily, Nancy stumbled away, with Ferraro frowning in
concern at her side. ‘Are you okay, Mrs Grover? Perhaps we’d
better get back now?’
‘No. I want to find Mr de Veer. I must make him see this is
a foolish idea. I mean, I can do better than be in some crazy
fantasy picture, can’t I?’
‘I think you can play any part you want, Mrs Grover.’ He
looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment. ‘I’ve seen all
your films,’ he admitted. ‘If I may say, I think you’re a fine
actress.’
Pleased by this honest, unsolicited praise, Nancy gave
Ferraro an appraising glance. He was quite a specimen of
manhood, she decided: lean and strong, with a hint of darkly
handsome latin blood. A pity he hadn’t got money or a
position to go with his looks. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to flatter
him a little and play the lady of delicate sensibilities.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Ferraro, you’re very kind,’ she said,
in her most gracious manner. ‘I must admit, I wouldn’t go a
step further in this place if you weren’t here with me.’
Ferraro swelled at the compliment.
They found the film makers in a larger clearing caused by
the collapse of a truly monstrous tree, the remains of which
were already colonized by smaller growths and feathered with
fungi. More armed sailors were sitting smoking on top of the
great trunk, their rifles resting casually over their knees.
Dodgeson had set up his silent 35 millimetre camera on a
tripod and was making test pans of scenery. Meanwhile, de
Veer strode around taking in the surroundings and making
notes for the screenplay.
As soon as he saw her, he said enthusiastically: ‘Do you
see what I meant now, Nancy? We couldn’t build all this on a
back lot. I wish we’d brought the whole crew with us now.
Still, when I’ve had a chance to scout the place properly, we’ll
try some test shots of you and Montgomery. Then, when I’ve
worked up an outline –’
‘Larry,’ Nancy said firmly, stemming the flow. ‘I want to
talk to you about the picture – in private.’
De Veer frowned. ‘Okay, if you want.’
They walked along beside the fallen tree until they were a
little way from the others. ‘Don’t go too far, Mrs Grover,’
Ferraro called after them.
When they could not be overheard, Nancy came straight to
the point. ‘I’m not filming here.’
‘Look, just because we’ve had a little bad luck to start with
–’
‘It gives me the shivers! There’s something wrong here,
and I’m not going to stay an hour longer than I have to!’
De Veer laid a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘Okay, so it’s a
strange place, but you knew that when we started. That’s what
we’re after! There has to be a reason for it – some freak of
nature – but Sternberg can sort that out. Meanwhile we can –’
‘Meanwhile nothing!’
Taken aback by her determination, de Veer tried another
tack. ‘You know times are hard back home. If this picture is a
success, it could help keep a lot of people in work. So why
can’t you put up with this place just for a couple of weeks?’
He could tell that this was making no impression on Nancy’s
hard eyes, so he added: ‘And what about Grover? He rescued
Paragon mostly for you, and he wants you to star in this
picture because he truly believes it will help your career.
Don’t you think you owe him something for that?’
‘I married him, didn’t I?’
De Veer frowned. ‘I didn’t know it was that sort of
arrangement.’
‘It isn’t – at least, not on his side,’ Nancy admitted
candidly.
‘My God, that’s cynical! What does that make you?’
‘A star,’ Nancy blazed back at him. ‘It’s going to make me
the biggest star in the movies! Everybody’s going to know my
name! And I’m not going to risk it all on some miserable bugridden island, making a stupid monster fantasy picture, if I
don’t want to!’
With an effort, de Veer said levelly: ‘You have a contract,
remember.’
‘I’m married to the owner of the studio now, so I write my
own contracts. And when I talk him around, I don’t want any
trouble from you, understand?’
De Veer suddenly chuckled mirthlessly. ‘Time was when
you were going to marry the studio’s top director. Then you
went after Grover and I was hurt, you know, but at least I
thought it was a genuine romance. Now I guess I simply
didn’t have ambition enough for your tastes. You’re lucky the
camera loves you, Nancy, because I don’t anymore.’
Nancy smiled coldly. ‘I can live with that.’
De Veer seemed to make one last effort. ‘All right, Nancy.
Forget everyone else but yourself. You’re good at that. You
might run down Kong, but I reckon it saved RKO from going
under. Paragon’s shaky as well, despite the money Grover’s
put into it. If you want to be a star, you’ve got to have a
working studio behind you, and Paragon needs a box office hit
to stay afloat and this could be it! But it only works if we have
a new angle, and that’s to film as much live and on location as
possible. Montgomery’s game enough, and I thought you
understood. If we find what we hope to here, it’ll give us the
edge over Kong and anybody else out to jump on the same
bandwagon. The audience can see it was for real, and not trick
photography. Damn it, Nancy, this is for your own good!
Can’t you put up with a little discomfort for that?’
Nancy wavered. There was some sense in what he said.
Perhaps it would be worth letting herself be talked round this
time, but it would be best not to make it too easy –
There was a slithering rustle from above.
A snake’s head as wide as a man’s shoulders glided
smoothly over the curve of the tree trunk, its forked tongue
flickering before it, tasting the air. Two cold reptilian eyes
gleamed down at them with terrible intent. Huge jaws gaped
wide, revealing foot-long fangs.
Nancy screamed.
A shot rang out, then another. Through her terror, Nancy
saw Ferraro and the other two sailors pelting towards them,
firing their rifles as they ran. Behind them, Dodgeson
automatically swung his camera round to record the incredible
scene.
A bullet tore into the snake’s blunt snout, opening a ragged
wound. Another ripped open its throat. With a terrible rasping
hiss, the spade-like head jerked away. De Veer and Nancy
leapt aside as a coil of its scaly body slithered over the trunk,
tearing free rotted bark and slabs of fungi, and thumped to the
ground, writhing and twisting. Another coil followed, and
then the whole animal was thrashing about in the clearing,
confused and desperate to escape the bullets that stung and
gouged its flesh. Fifty feet of sinuous body as thick as a man’s
trunk coiled and uncoiled like a severed hawser, flattening
clumps of fern in its agony. Jaws agape, the snake lunged at
its assailants, but the sailors maintained their fire and drove it
back. Gradually its spasms weakened, and with a final twitch
and shiver that ran down its whole body, the head dropped to
the earth and the beast was still.
Gasping and trembling, her face deathly pale, Nancy
scrambled away from the corpse on her hands and knees. Her
fine dress was torn and smeared with earth and mould, she had
lost a shoe, and her hat lay a few yards away, crumpled under
a coil of the snake. She glared at de Veer in fear and rage,
tears brimming in her eyes.
‘I...I told you!’ she stammered, her voice rising to a shrill.
‘We’ll die if we stay here!’
Through misty eyes she saw Sternberg, Amelia and their
guards burst into the clearing. Sternberg looked down in
wonder at the huge reptile, temporarily lost for words. Amelia
stepped over to Nancy and helped her up. Nancy forgot their
animosity and clung to her for support, vaguely aware of
Ferraro looking on in concern and de Veer thanking him for
his vigilance.
A moment later, Grover and a party of sailors from the
beach sprinted into the clearing at a dead run, only to stop
short in amazement at the sight. Nancy pulled away from
Amelia and almost fell into Grover’s arms, still trembling with
shock.
‘Please...we’ve got to get away from here...as soon as the
repairs are done...’ she choked out brokenly. Underneath, in
that detached, calculating part of her, she felt a strange sense
of relief. After this he could not possibly refuse her.
But though Grover’s face contorted in sympathy and
anguish, all he said was: ‘We’ll see, Honey. We’ll see.’
Dinner that night was an uncomfortable affair, Amelia
conceded to herself.
Dodgeson had hastily developed the film of the snake fight
in the yacht’s comprehensive darkroom, and they had all,
except Nancy, watched the reel several times. Now, as they
ate, Sternberg, Dodgeson and de Veer, with almost
schoolboyish enthusiasm, were inevitably speculating as to
whether the island held other such monstrous beasts, while
Montgomery made off-colour jokes about snakes. Miss Ellis
ate quietly, as usual, and only made polite comments when
directly addressed. Nancy was tight-lipped and radiated
frustrated anger, gazing reproachfully at Grover. Amelia
watched her father curiously, expecting some response to this
silent onslaught – but none came. When the meal was over,
Nancy excused herself and disappeared to her cabin.
Sternberg also departed, returning to the cabin next to his
own, which had been fitted out as a laboratory, so that he
could resume his work on the samples he had collected that
day. The rest took drinks and cigars out on deck, where moths
and mosquitoes fluttered suicidally about the Constitution’s
lamps. The light of a tropical moon glittered across the waters
of the lagoon and turned the beach into a pale and ghostly
ribbon. But the shadows merged under the tall trees, and the
dark mass of the island seemed to loom ominously over them.
Amelia joined her father as he leaned on the rail, and for a
while they stood silently together. Then she asked: ‘Pa, why
didn’t you tell Nancy we’d leave once the repairs are finished?
She really was frightened by that snake, you know, and who
could blame her?’ She looked out at the black silhouette of the
island, a frown creasing her normally clear brow. ‘And I’ve
got a sense of...well, call it foreboding, about this place. What
else might be hiding in there, and is it worth the risk simply to
make a film? Can’t we just go as soon as possible?’
Her father looked as though he was struggling with some
deep internal conflict. Gently he put his hand over hers as it
rested on the rail, his normally powerful, commanding tones
strangely muted: ‘Amy, the Lord knows I’d do anything for
you or Nancy. But there are very good reasons why we may
have to stay here a little longer. I can’t tell you right now what
they are, but you’ll learn soon, I hope. Until then, will you just
trust that your old dad knows what he’s doing?’
Puzzled, Amelia nevertheless replied reassuringly: ‘Of
course I will, Pa.’
Grover smiled. ‘And don’t worry, we’ll take good care of
you. We did for that snake, after all, big as he was. And apart
from rifles, there are a couple of cases of dynamite on board.
With that, we can stop anything –’
From out of the dark woods, a distant but piercing cry
seemed to drop in pitch and into their range of hearing,
making them all flinch in surprise. A second shrill voice
joined it, and in moments an unearthly chorus of shrieks and
sharp squeals could be heard. The yacht’s company lined the
rails on both decks and peered intently out into the night, but
the source of the stridor was hidden from view somewhere
deep in the forest. The men on guard licked their suddenly dry
lips and held their rifles ready.
For half an hour the terrible screeches continued, rising and
falling in clarity as their sources apparently moved across the
island. Twice, the medley of cries rose into fierce and angry
frenzy, suggesting pain and conflict, and causing the listeners
to wince and stop their ears against the penetrating sound that
set their teeth on edge. Then, gradually, the clamour subsided,
as one by one the voices fell silent. Within minutes, only the
normal muted noises of the tropical night could be heard, and
it was as though nothing untoward had occurred. A puzzled
calm reasserted itself on the yacht.
Captain Pascoe ordered the guard doubled, but nobody
would honestly claim to have slept well that night.
Four
M
ike Yates entered the laboratory the next morning to
find the Doctor and Liz already hard at work on a
haywire amalgam of complex equipment.
The alien artifact still rested in its insulated box, but the
sensor couplings now ran directly to the hexagonal console
unit. A new device stood beside it, coupled by a trailing spray
of wires. It held a keyboard, with an open panel above it
revealing exposed circuitry, suggesting that a mounting had
been removed. From this in turn ran a conduit to another new
piece of apparatus, set a little in front of the linked units. It
was a hoop formed of many coils of wire, about seven feet
across (reminding Mike somewhat of the coils of an
armature), held upright by a bolted framework of light metal
stanchions. Heavy-duty power cables ran from all three
devices to a bank of high-capacity electrical accumulators
mounted on a rack of free-standing metal shelves. The Doctor
was sitting cross-legged on the floor, absentmindedly singing
a sort of chant softly to himself as he made the connections
between the hoop and the conduit. Neither the words nor the
tune sounded remotely like anything Mike had ever heard
before. Liz Shaw was working on the console itself, and she
raised an inquiring eyebrow at him.
‘Come to check up on us, Sergeant Yates? You can assure
the Brigadier we are working assiduously on his little
problem...’ She yawned. ‘Excuse me...I was here till ten
o’clock yesterday evening helping set up the equipment, and
the Doctor’s worked all night. How’s that for dedication?’
Mike frowned at the Doctor, who was working on
apparently oblivious to his presence. ‘Doesn’t he have a home
to go to?’
Liz nodded at the police box, still sitting incongruously in
the corner of the laboratory. ‘That’s his home.’
Mike tried to look nonchalant. ‘Oh yes, that’s the TARDIS,
isn’t it? I’ve heard...something about it.’
Liz smiled knowingly. ‘Go on. I can see you’re dying to
take a look inside. Well the Doctor won’t mind, and I’m sure
the Brigadier wouldn’t let you in here if you hadn’t signed all
the right security forms.’
Mike walked over to the police box and peered cautiously
in at its half open door.
‘It’s quite safe. Just don’t touch anything – or get lost!’
Mike grinned at her warning, then realized she was not
joking. Hesitantly he stepped inside.
He was gone for nearly ten minutes. When he finally
emerged, he was still shaking his head.
‘I couldn’t quite believe what I’d heard before. That box
actually is bigger inside than out!’
‘The Doctor’s catch phrase is “dimensionally
transcendental”. Why don’t you practise it?’ Liz suggested
dryly. ‘It’ll impress the Brigadier.’
‘It seems to extend for miles. How does it all fit in?’
Liz raised a challenging eyebrow. ‘Do you want the
complete explanation?’
‘Ah...no, probably not. But why are there so many loose
wires hanging about in there?’
‘It needs some repairs to get it working properly again.
That’s why the main console is out here.’ She leant forward
confidentially. ‘Actually, I think it’s been in need of a good
overhaul for years, but the Doctor’s been too busy flitting
about the universe to get around to it.’
Mike looked with new respect at the velvet jacketed figure
hunched over his work. He half whispered: ‘So he really is a –
’
‘An alien time traveller, Sergeant Yates,’ the Doctor cut in,
turning round briefly to favour him with a cheerful smile,
before returning to his wiring. ‘You’d better accept the fact if
we’re to work together, you know.’
Mike could think of no suitable response, and only a string
of probably foolish questions, so he retreated to the matter in
hand. The rest would no doubt take care of itself, eventually.
‘Can I tell the Brigadier that you’re making progress towards
finding out where that thing came from, Doctor?’
‘My dear chap, do have a little patience. We only learnt of
the artifact’s existence less than a day ago. Why not come
back this afternoon. We might have something to show you
then.’
‘Right, ah...what actually is it you’re trying to do, by the
way?’
Liz explained. ‘According to the Doctor, the artifact is
emitting a particular type of energy called omicron radiation.
With the TARDIS console and this’ – she tapped the partially
dismembered unit beside it – ‘which was once a sort of spacetime television of the Doctor’s –’
‘Visualizer,’ the Doctor muttered.
‘Space-time visualizer,’ Liz amended, ‘we hope to be able
to follow the trace of that radiation through the continuum
back to its origin, and display the location as an actual image
over there.’ She pointed to the coil the Doctor was working
on.
‘I see,’ said Mike, trying to sound informed. ‘Right, well,
I’ll be back this afternoon.’ He glanced once again at the
TARDIS as he walked thoughtfully out.
The lab was no less cluttered that afternoon, but the
equipment had a slightly more finished look about it, and
some of the untidy webwork of couplings and cables had been
taped together into more manageable bundles. The Doctor was
calibrating the visualizer keyboard while Liz was making
notes and labelling certain switches.
The Doctor beamed at Mike, looking remarkably spry and
alert despite his having worked through the night.
‘Just in time, Sergeant Yates. I think we’re about ready for
a demonstration. All set, Liz?’
‘I still wish we had a greater energy reserve, but I suppose
we’ve got enough for a trial run. Okay, ready when you are,
Doctor.’
The Doctor started to operate the controls, switching
rapidly between the TARDIS console and the visualizer
keyboard. Indicator lights began to glow and flicker, and Liz
noted the readings on her clipboard. There was a low hum of
slowly building power, and Mike felt the tingle of electricity
in the air.
‘Now watch the imaging coil, Sergeant,’ said the Doctor,
adjusting a large dial carefully.
For a moment, all Mike could see through the coil was the
far side of the laboratory. Then a mistiness seemed to swirl
about within it and the background blurred and rippled, as
though he was looking through running water. Suddenly the
disc blanked into opacity, and he saw a jumble of confused
images. He got the fleeting impression of faces, oddly
distorted, peering out of the immaterial screen. There were
several different views of the Doctor and Liz, then a
moustached face that could only be the Brigadier. For an
instant he thought he saw his own features staring out at him,
then there was blackness.
‘We’re viewing the journey of the artifact back through
time,’ the Doctor explained, ‘using the omicron radiation track
as a guide. It’s as though we’re witnessing events from the
artifact’s viewpoint as the image locus follows it.’
Light and movement again burst on to the screen, with
flashes of faces Mike did not recognize looming up and
pulling away quickly, interspersed with regular flickers of
darkness. A phrase popped into Mike’s mind: ‘night followed
day like the flapping of a black wing’. From Wells’s The Time
Machine, of course. It suddenly struck him forcefully that he
was actually watching that very succession in reverse, running
backwards into the past. The images on the screen became a
blur, then resolved to a blue-black obscurity that remained
almost constant, except for the faint flicker of the day–night
cycle.
‘The longer intervals are presumably when it was sealed in
its container, inside the shark’s stomach, or lying at the
bottom of the sea in near constant darkness,’ commented the
Doctor. ‘We’re going back faster now. What’s the reading,
Liz?’
‘Minus 35 years...37 –’
There was a blaze of light.
‘Ah,’ exclaimed the Doctor, ‘I think this is it!’
‘Losing the focus,’ said Liz.
The Doctor’s hands flew over the controls, and the last
image shivered and stabilized on the screen. Mike saw a
stretch of grey-black rocks frozen in mud-like ripples and
crossed by cracks, all half obscured by a haze of steam and
smoke that limited visibility to five or six yards. It reminded
him of pictures he had seen of geyser land, or solidified lava
flows.
‘Within a few feet and a few days of that location in space
and time, the artifact came into being in its present form,’ the
Doctor declared.
Mike cautiously moved closer to the image coil. He found
to his surprise that the scene altered as he changed position,
his angle of view widening the closer he got, as though he
were looking through a slightly misty window and not at a
projected, fixed image. But there was little else to see apart
from more rocks and steam. Peering upwards he caught a
glimpse of blue sky through a rift in the haze.
‘All right, Doctor. I admit it’s very impressive. But where
is it...and when, exactly?’
Liz consulted the readings, noting down numbers on her
board. ‘The place is the South Pacific – probably an island on
the edge of French Polynesia, I’d say, from the latitude and
longitude. The time is the eighth of June, nineteen thirty-four.’
‘Well, that’s something to be going on with,’ said Mike.
‘At least we can let our Canberra office know where to start
looking for any more remains. Thanks, Doctor, Miss Shaw.’
‘Don’t be too hasty, Sergeant,’ the Doctor cautioned. ‘I
think we can do better than this. Liz, raise the coil power input
to thirty percent, please.’
Mike saw her move a sliding lever up a couple of notches
and immediately the image within the coil sharpened further.
The Doctor turned to the visualizer control panel and carefully
moved a small joystick. The image seemed to swell, and the
rocks rushed at Mike, causing him to flinch back. For a
moment it had felt as though he had been moving.
‘You might have warned me,’ he complained.
‘Now that we have a fix on specific coordinates, we can
move the viewing locus about freely,’ the Doctor explained
proudly, making the image track and pan and then rotate on its
own axis. Suddenly, however, it darted off to one side,
weaving drunkenly about, and the Doctor hastily re-set the
controls to bring it back to its starting position. He gave a
slightly embarrassed cough.
‘Of course, the calibration may be a little off. Should be
more stable on higher power.’
Smiling, Liz made a note on her clipboard.
But now the Doctor’s eyes gleamed. ‘Liz, up another sixty
percent.’
‘We can only sustain that level for a few minutes, you
know.’
‘I know, but let’s try it anyway.’
Liz slid the lever further along its slot. The power hum rose
slightly. Mike saw the scene through the coil harden into an
illusion of perfect reality. Suddenly he could hear the steady
hiss of venting steam, accompanied by a change in acoustics
that suggested a large open space beyond the murk. So
realistic was the image now that he almost imagined the whiff
of sulphur.
‘I didn’t realize you could get sound as well,’ he
exclaimed, beginning to be seriously impressed by the
demonstration.
The Doctor scanned the displays and smiled to himself. Liz
looked at him curiously.
‘All right, Liz, power back to ten percent.’
The power hum faded, the sound died, and the image
within the coil coarsened, its colour bleaching away until it
seemed distant and rather unreal. Mike thoughtfully watched
it recede, the military possibilities of the system beginning to
dawn on him. If only it could be made to work in
contemporary time, think what a reconnaissance device it
would make!
‘The Brigadier will want to have a look at this,’ he
declared, and strode purposefully out.
An awkward silence fell in the lab.
Liz looked suspiciously at the Doctor. She could tell he
was up to something. He responded by raising his eyebrows in
mild enquiry, implying innocent puzzlement. Without a word,
she walked over to the imaging coil and sniffed the air. Then
she bent down and wiped her fingers over the floor in front of
it. They left a trail in a small patch of condensation.
‘What’s going on, Doctor?’ she demanded.
‘My dear Liz –’ he began placatingly, but Liz cut him
short.
‘Now don’t you “My dear Liz” me! This is more than an
audiovisual scanner. It’s a physical link, isn’t it? Well?’
The Doctor looked contrite. ‘There was a possibility that, at
high power, with the omicron trace to give stability, the
system might act as a space–time bridge. But I wasn’t sure –’
‘You mean you can just step through it into the past?’
‘Certainly, with the time rates now in phase on both sides –
’
‘So that’s why you were working on it so eagerly. Oh,
Doctor! Remember what happened the last time you tried to
improvise something like this with the console? You nearly
got killed!’
‘But don’t you see, Liz, this is my chance to bypass the
restrictions the Time Lords placed on me. Take the first step,
at least. You’ve no idea how it feels to be confined to just one
planet and time...’ He paused. ‘Well, I suppose you do. But
imagine what it would be like to be restricted to one country,
one city, with the whole world denied to you.’ He gave her a
hopeful, slightly anxious smile, making it hard to stay angry
with him. ‘Now you can’t blame me for trying to escape in
those circumstances, can you?’
She had to smile back in return. ‘No, I suppose not. But I
just wish you’d told me what you were trying to do first. And
what about the Brigadier? Yates is probably telling him right
now how hard we’re working on the problem of the artifact,
when really it’s still your time travel experiments.’
‘Not at all,’ the Doctor insisted stoutly. ‘Two birds with
one stone, and all that. Now I can actually investigate the
origin of his precious artifact on the spot, as it were. How can
he possibly object?’
‘I can imagine a few ways,’ Liz responded dryly. ‘He’ll say
it’s too dangerous for a start, and I’d agree with him. That
looks like a volacanic crater to me, and it’s clearly not yet
extinct.’
‘But neither has it been recently active, to any significant
extent. The rocks have had time to cool and crack, as you can
see,’ the Doctor countered.
‘Well, what if the bridge itself breaks down? You’ll be
marooned there.’
‘Which is why I want you at this end, just in case. Believe
me, Liz,’ he said sincerely, ‘I have the greatest confidence in
your abilities, should anything go wrong.’ He rubbed his chin.
‘But you may be right about Lethbridge-Stewart. Perhaps I’d
better present him with a fait accompli.’
He strode over to the TARDIS and disappeared inside,
leaving a worried Liz behind him. He was back out in a
minute carrying a small backpack, and with a respirator mask
and goggles hanging loosely about his neck.
‘There,’ he said reassuringly, patting the pack. ‘Radiation
detector, torch, survival rations, even a first aid box. You can’t
say I haven’t gone properly prepared now, can you?’
She sighed resignedly. ‘All right, Doctor, I can see you’re
determined. But please be careful!’
‘Naturally.’ He looked surprised. ‘When have I ever taken
risks?’
‘Never mind. What do you want me to do?’
‘Power up to maximum while I cross over, then down to
ten to keep visual contact. There should be enough charge in
the accumulators at that level of expenditure to hold the bridge
open for several hours at least. Step up the power a little if you
want to move the locus, but don’t do it unless you have to. I’ll
signal when I want to return.’
‘Understood. Go on, before I change my mind.’
The Doctor stood before the image coil, drawing on his
mask. Liz took a deep breath and pushed up the power lever.
With a rising hum the image sharpened into hard reality and
the hiss of the steam vents could be heard. The Doctor stepped
over the lower curve of the coil and on to the dark, rippled
rock beyond. He looked around for a moment, then gave a
thumbs-up sign to Liz. She reduced the power again and the
sound faded away. She saw the Doctor, now just an image
within the coil and as insubstantial as a character on
television, take out his radiation detector and start sweeping it
to and fro.
At that moment, Mike Yates and the Brigadier entered.
‘Right, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier briskly, ‘let’s see this
new gadget of yours. Now where’s he got to?’
Liz pointed mutely at the coil.
The Brigadier saw the Doctor’s image, took an incredulous
step forward and came close to clutching his head. ‘Oh, good
grief! What’s he up to now? Doctor! Doctor! I told you not to
try any more of these experiments. Come back here at once,
man!’ He gestured urgently.
‘He can’t hear you, Brigadier,’ Liz said quickly.
By chance the Doctor turned, saw the audience had
increased by two, and waved back cheerfully. Then he walked
away into the haze, head bent over the radiation detector.
‘Perhaps not, but he knows what I mean!’ the Brigadier
exclaimed in annoyance, rounding on Liz. ‘This is most
irresponsible of both of you, Miss Shaw. Can’t you bring him
back here?’
‘Not forceably, Brigadier – unless you’d like to go through
after him? But I’d rather not use the extra power, or we may
not get him back at all.’
The Brigadier fumed impatiently, realizing there was
nothing he could do. They were all silent for a minute, waiting
for the Doctor’s reappearance.
Then Mike sniffed and frowned. ‘Can you smell burning?’
‘It’s the sulphur from the volcano,’ said Liz automatically.
Then she smelt it herself, and looked about anxiously at the
tangle of cables and equipment. Nothing seemed to be wrong.
Then she heard a pop and splutter from the accumulator racks.
She spun round in time to see acrid smoke rising from one of
the cells on the second row, and snatched at a pair of insulated
gloves and protective goggles. ‘I must disconnect it!’ she
shouted.
There was a sharp bang and flash that temporarily dazzled
them. The top of the heavy accumulator cell blew off,
scattering corrosive electrolyte fluid, tearing free cables from
its terminals, and flinging them across the contacts of the
adjacent cells. There were more sparks and a flicker of fire as
insulation ignited.
‘We’ll handle this,’ the Brigadier barked at Liz, as he and
Mike grabbed extinguishers from their wall clips. ‘You get the
Doctor back while there’s still a chance!’
Dry powder and carbon dioxide foam hissed and billowed
behind Liz as she turned to the controls. The power levels
were dropping as the accumulator connections burnt out.
Desperately, she diverted all the remaining reserves to the coil
and the image hardened. She ran over to it and shouted:
‘Doctor! Come back! The bridge is failing!’
Heat sensors triggered the lab’s fire alarm, adding to the
din.
A second accumulator burst. Liz felt a hot piece of wire
stab into the back of her knee, just above her boot-top. She
gasped and jerked away, stumbled over the coil frame, and fell
through the space–time interface with only the slightest of
tingling sensations.
She landed heavily on her hands and knees, grazing herself
on the rippled black rock as she rolled on to her hip. Steam
swirled about her and the heavy sulphurous air stung her
throat.
Liz looked back just in time to see the floating disc of the
interface and the laboratory beyond flicker and vanish before
her eyes.
Five
S
omething had picked the huge carcass of the snake clean
down to the bone overnight, leaving hardly a shred of skin
or flesh behind.
With the clearing still filled with morning shadows,
Sternberg and de Veer both stared at the improbable skeleton
stretched out beside the fallen tree, while Dodgeson snapped
away with his Leica about the remains. Montgomery simply
shook his head in amazement. The escort of sailors held their
rifles a little closer and peered suspiciously at the gloom under
the great trees.
‘Could it have anything to do with that racket we heard last
night?’ de Veer speculated at length.
Sternberg responded irritably. ‘Ach, I do not know. I see no
marks on the bones, and the ground is not good for tracks.
Thank goodness I obtained samples from the beast yesterday.’
He looked resolute. ‘So, I will continue with the exploration.’
‘Maybe both our groups should stick together for a while,’
de Veer suggested. ‘After all, we’re both looking for much the
same things,’ he added lightly. And, he thought to himself,
whatever had removed almost a ton of snake meat last night
might still be hanging around.
Sternberg paused, looked at the remains again, dabbed at
his forehead with his handkerchief, then nodded. ‘Perhaps it
would be wise,’ he conceded.
The expedition pressed on into the forest.
The music faded away on to the sea breeze, and the
hammering of the working party could be heard once more.
As Grover hesitantly crossed the deck there came the hiss and
click of a needle running off into the centre grooves of the
record. Nancy did not stir, though she must have heard him
approach.
Dressed in a trim one piece swimsuit, she was reclining in
a lounger under the shade of a large tasselled beach umbrella,
pointedly set out on the Constitution’s sun deck, not the beach
with the others. A tray of iced drinks was by her side, together
with a wind-up gramophone, a pile of records, and a stack of
movie magazines. As he looked down on her, Grover thought
again how perfect and radiant she was. If only she didn’t have
these little spats and rub people up the wrong way so often.
‘Nancy...can I talk to you?’
‘No,’ she said pre-emptively, ‘I’m not going to film here.
Ever! Back in the studio, fine, but not here. Not after the bugs.
And that snake! I mean, do you want me to risk my life to
make this film?’
‘Of course not, Honey. That’s ridiculous. But the guards
are ready for anything now. We’ll take no chances, believe
me. Wherever you go will be scouted out thoroughly first.’
‘No,’ she responded flatly. Then suddenly she turned
towards him, peering plaintively over the top of her sunglasses
and suddenly sounding so anxious and vulnerable that it made
Grover want to hug her to him. ‘Anyway, even if I tried, I’d
be too nervous to give a good performance, and I don’t want
to do that. Please, Marshal. Can we just leave when the repairs
are done?’
It hurt to go against her, but he had no choice.
‘How about this?’ he suggested. ‘When we get the ship
fixed, we anchor her out in the lagoon. It’ll be calm there and
quite safe, and you don’t have to come ashore if you don’t
want to –’
‘I want to go home! They can come back and film another
time.’
‘That might not be so easy, Nancy. This island is in French
territory, remember. Each trip out here would make it more
likely they’ll catch on. And once they know about Salutua and
all the odd things here, they’d probably put a lid on it and we
might not get a second chance for years.’
‘Well let them.’
‘But we’ve got to stay here!’ The sudden passion in his
voice caused Nancy to stare at him in surprise. He quickly
moderated his tone. ‘What I mean is it’s unfair to all those
good people, your colleagues, to deny them the opportunity to
make something of this discovery. And I did promise
Sternberg he would have plenty of time to make his scientific
tests as a reward for putting me on to Salutua in the first place.
You wouldn’t have me go back on my word, would you,
Nancy?’ For a moment he saw her waver and he added
quickly: ‘Look, suppose we stay for a week after we’re fixed.
Just seven days. Then I promise we’ll leave whether Sternberg
and de Veer are finished their work here or not, and we’ll take
a chance on coming back again later. How’s that?’
Nancy considered for what seemed like a very long time,
but eventually nodded. ‘Okay, but not an hour more.’
Grover felt immeasurably relieved, and beamed down at
his wife. ‘Sure, I understand. I’ll go and tell de Veer myself
right away so he can get on with his scouting. Still, he’ll be
sorry you’re not going to be in the picture.’
Nancy sat up again with a surprised jerk. ‘No, I am going
to star in this picture, Marshal; I’m just not filming it here,
that’s all.’
De Veer surveyed the huge structure curiously, keeping back
in the shadows at the edge of the trees. The tower of hardpacked red earth and mud rose two hundred feet above the
floor of the clearing, its top catching the sunlight. At its base it
must have measured fifty feet across. Its sides were fluted and
pleated, as though incorporating integral buttresses. Running
up within the ribbed folds they could see occasional dark
openings of a foot or so across – rather like the portholes of
some upended ocean liner, he thought. Occasionally there was
an indistinct flicker of movement about their mouths.
Dodgeson was setting up his camera tripod to film the
edifice while Montgomery observed with interest. The actor
had donned a bush jacket and hat, and carried a rifle slung
casually under his arm, looking the very image of an intrepid
white hunter. Montgomery had the miraculous ability to turn
up on time for his call, and apparently sober no matter what
excesses he had indulged the night before, for which de Veer
was sincerely grateful.
Sternberg was kneeling down with his ear pressed to the
ground.
De Veer frowned at him. ‘What is that thing, Professor?
And what the heck are you listening for?’
Sternberg gestured impatiently for him to be quiet.
Puzzled, de Veer put his own ear to the ground.
The earth was buzzing faintly – for want of a better
description. A complex, ever changing susurration that was a
combination of many sounds overlaying each other: the patter
of many feet, scratching, gnawing, rasping. De Veer looked
questioningly at a delighted Sternberg, who climbed to his
feet, dusting himself off.
‘Ants,’ he declared. ‘And that is their dwelling. The
openings in its sides are to provide ventilation and to control
the internal temperature of the structure. The relative
proportions are not those of a regular nest, but then they are
no doubt limited by the strength of the materials to hand.’
De Veer looked at the massive pile again, in disbelief. ‘Are
you serious, Professor?’
Sternberg bristled. ‘Most certainly. I do not make a joke.
This is simply in keeping with the other examples of
gigantism we have already come across. Indeed, I should have
guessed when we saw the snake had been dismembered so
cleanly. No doubt these creatures were at least partially
responsible.’ He rubbed his hands together in delight and
started forward towards the nest tower.
‘Hold on, Professor,’ de Veer cautioned. ‘I want to see
these things as much as you do, remember, but let’s take a
look at what we’re dealing with first.’ He turned to their
escort. ‘You men, get ready just in case.’ The sailors raised
their rifles. ‘Camera?’
‘Ready to roll, Mr de Veer,’ Dodgeson confirmed, bending
over the viewfinder.
De Veer picked up a stone, hefted it a few times to judge
its weight, then tossed it across the clearing to bounce into one
of the lower openings. At once there was a scrabble of
movement from within and a faint chittering sound. A glossy
red-brown form emerged from the hole in a flurry of legs. Its
antennae twitched as its head turned from side to side.
Sunlight glittered off multifaceted compound eyes. Heavily
barbed mandibles clicked together, as though it were flexing
its muscles.
It was indeed an ant, and all of three feet long.
De Veer saw Dodgeson tense, but he never stopped
working the camera.
Montgomery managed a slightly forced chuckle. ‘Remind
me not to invite them if I throw a picnic.’ He lifted his rifle to
his shoulder and sighted along the barrel. ‘Want me to pot
him, de Veer? Make a great shot. And what a trophy that head
would be!’
De Veer looked at Sternberg, who nodded. ‘Why not?
What is one ant to a nest? As long as I may examine the
specimen first.’
‘Won’t it bring the rest out? There could be hundreds...
thousands more in there.’
‘I think it not likely, as long as we do not threaten the nest
itself.’
‘Okay, Mike. But make it a clean shot.’
The rifle cracked once.
The bullet’s impact snapped the bulbous head backwards
as a neat hole appeared in the chitin between the ant’s eyes.
The insect convulsed, antennae twitching frantically, then it
sagged to the ground, its legs splaying out in the dust.
Montgomery laughed, pleased with his marksmanship.
‘You’re my witness, de Veer. When I tell people I can plug an
ant between the eyes at 25 yards, you can swear it’s the honest
truth!’
Sternberg ran forward accompanied by a couple of guards,
grabbed one of the ant’s legs, and dragged it back into the
trees. A second ant, as gigantic as the first, appeared at the
nest entrance, but made no hostile move, content apparently to
observe them with its huge, expressionless eyes, its antennae
twitching occasionally. Nevertheless, the sailors kept a
watchful eye on it and the other nest holes. As Sternberg was
examining his new specimen, noting changes in its relative
proportions in keeping with its increased size, Grover and
Amelia appeared out of the forest with their escort.
‘We heard a shot,’ Grover said. ‘Any trouble?’
‘Montgomery just shot an ant,’ de Veer replied with a grin,
and went on enthusiastically to introduce their latest find,
outlining how he could work the giants into the storyline. ‘We
can certainly make an incredible picture here, Mr Grover,’ he
concluded.
Grover frowned. ‘I’m sure you’re right, de Veer.
Unfortunately, you will have to make it without Nancy – at
least while we’re on Salutua. She realizes the potential of the
film, now she’s had a chance to think about it, and insists on
being in it, but she’s quite adamant she will only work in a
studio.’
De Veer was crestfallen. Was Nancy doing this to spite
him, or was she simply genuinely scared of the island? He
could perhaps have forgiven the latter if she had not used up
her store of goodwill a long time ago. All she had left was the
gift of communicating through the camera and right into the
heart of the audience. It more than compensated for her
moderate acting ability. But without that, what else was there?
A pretty, rather selfish and self-centred woman. And he had
once thought he loved her...
He tried not to show the depths of his annoyance and
dismay before Nancy’s husband and owner of the studio, but
exasperation still lent an edge to his words.
‘Once the radio was fixed,’ he explained, ‘I was going to
have a full crew sent out here with all the sound recording
gear as soon as possible, on the strength of what we’ve
already found. Meanwhile, we could get some silent
background footage and long shots. But now I can’t do any
scene with Nancy in until I get a stand-in for her.’
Amelia said generously: ‘I think it was the snake that did it.
She was terribly frightened.’
‘But she knows we wouldn’t risk that happening again!
We’ve doubled the guards and they know what to expect now.
She’d be as safe here as on the yacht. I mean, you seem to be
managing okay, Miss Grover.’
Grover smiled proudly. ‘Amy’s a tough girl. She’s been
around the islands since she was small. Nancy’s just not used
to life in the wilds, I guess.’
‘I’m sure that’s it, Mr Grover,’ de Veer forced himself to
reply charitably. Visions of Nancy complaining about the
inadequacies of her stand-in and demanding costly re-takes of
location footage were already flashing before his eyes. She’d
done it before in The Carolina Belle, he recalled unhappily.
‘But this is going to mean more studio time and expense, I’m
afraid.’
‘I’d offer to stand in for Nancy myself if it would help,’
Amelia said lightly. ‘But for obvious reasons I don’t think it
would work, even with Anni on.’ She grinned and shrugged,
emphasizing her missing arm.
‘Anni?’ De Veer was mystified.
‘Artificial Anni, I call her. It’s a false arm Pa had made for
me. Fully adjustable and very realistic. The best you can buy.’
She smiled at her father. ‘But I hardly ever wear it, which he
can never understand. Sometimes I’m such a trial to him.’
‘Never, Amy,’ Grover said tenderly.
De Veer looked on in admiration. By golly, the girl was
tough, just like Grover said. She never let it get her down. If
only Nancy had a tenth of her spirit...Hold on! His mind
raced. An idea, tenuous at first, began to take shape. It was a
little strange, but it might just work. Yes, maybe he could
make something of this setback after all. It would at least give
Nancy a shock. And if it blew up in his face, well, he’d rather
it was a clean break. He had a feeling that, one way or
another, he would not be working with Nancy Norton for very
much longer anyhow.
‘Perhaps, Miss Grover,’ he began tentatively, ‘you can help
after all.’
Six
E
ven as Liz was coughing and struggling to her feet, the
Doctor appeared out of the steam and smoke like a welldressed ghost. Three quick strides took him to her side.
‘Liz, what happened? Are you all right?’ His words were
muffled by his breathing mask, but she could hear the concern
in his tone.
‘There was a short in the accumulators...’ she tried to
explain, in between coughs. ‘Fire...Time bridge gone...’ She
doubled over, choking, eyes streaming. The Doctor pulled off
his mask and put it over her nose and mouth. Then he lifted
her upright, and led her off, half supporting her, through the
swirling greyness. For several yards there were only the
cracked and rippled black rocks underfoot. Then the mist
began to thin and she saw dimly, through her watering eyes, a
rock ledge before them, like a giant step. The Doctor helped
her up it and after another few yards they came to a second
one, which they also climbed. The light was growing brighter
and Liz felt a blessed downdraught of cooler air in her face.
Once up the third ledge and on to a broad shelf of rock, the
Doctor sat her down on a convenient boulder. He gently
removed the respirator mask and offered her a handkerchief to
mop her eyes.
‘Thank you,’ she said, coughing.
When at last she could see clearly, she found herself
looking out across the interior of a volcanic caldera perhaps
four hundred yards across. The far side was obscured by the
steadily rising plume of steam from the vents in the crater
floor, but the stepped sides of the crater were kept relatively
clear by the constant upwelling of heated air and the cooler
downdraught that replenished it. Around the haze of venting
steam, blue sky edged the rim of the crater, which was still a
hundred feet above them. She noticed traces of vegetation on
the higher slopes. About her feet were patches of red and
yellow lichen, and even a few straggling weeds peeking out of
the cracks in the rocks, suggesting that conditions in the crater
had been stable for some time. At least there seemed to be no
danger of any imminent eruption; that was something, she
consoled herself, otherwise it really would have been a case of
out of the frying pan and into the fire!
‘Now, Liz, explain.’ The Doctor was looking at her
intently.
She took a deep breath and related concisely the sequence
of events that had led to the breakdown and her unplanned
arrival. The Doctor listened to her story, then rubbed the back
of his neck, frowning.
‘Well, it could have been worse, I suppose. As long as it
was only the accumulators that were damaged, even the
Brigadier’s people should be able to replace them easily
enough. And once the power is restored, the bridge will
simply reappear again where it was before. As long as we
keep checking the spot, we’ll soon be picked up again.’
Liz had a feeling it wouldn’t be quite so straightforward.
Somehow it never was. But she tried to sound relaxed about
the situation. ‘The Brigadier’s not going to be pleased with
you at all, Doctor – I hope you realize that.’
The Doctor grinned. ‘Let’s hope we have the opportunity
to find out!’
She smiled back. ‘All right, but the repairs are going to
take a few hours at least. What shall we do till then? Look for
the source of the artifact, I suppose?’
‘No need for that, Liz. I’ve already found it.’ He pointed
behind her.
Liz twisted round.
Nestling against the crater wall was a dull black eggshaped spacecraft.
‘Right, Corporal,’ the Brigadier demanded briskly. ‘How long
will it take you to get this lot patched up and working again?’
Corporal Thomas Osgood looked around the smokeblackened laboratory in dismay.
‘Uh, if I could just check a few things first, sir.’
He took out a notepad and began an inspection of the
remains, brushing away drifts of foam and extinguisher
powder and jotting down a list of the damage, while Benton
supervised a squad sweeping up the worst of the mess. Half
the bank of accumulators had been badly scorched or had
actually ruptured, and might need replacement, as did some of
the wiring that linked them to the strange collection of
equipment that filled the middle of the room. He kept well
clear of that and prayed it wouldn’t need any repairs. Frankly
it scared him. If you wanted a radio unit fixed or radar set
serviced, he was quite happy to oblige. A computer
mainframe playing up? No problem. But he knew his limits.
He’d seen the sort of devices that the Doctor and Liz Shaw
played about with in their laboratory before, and he knew they
took up where the theory he’d learnt in college left off. But of
course pleading ignorance would cut no ice with the
Brigadier. If he wanted something fixed, it got fixed, or else!
Osgood completed the examination and made his report.
‘Well, sir. The rewiring shouldn’t take more than a couple
of hours, but the accumulators are going to be a problem. We
need eight replacements. Unfortunately, they’re special highcapacity types, and the only firm that makes them is in
Glasgow. I’ll have to get on to them to see if they’ve enough
in stock, then get them sent down –’
The Brigadier was beginning to glower.
‘Can’t see it being ready before tomorrow afternoon, sir,’
Osgood concluded quickly.
The Brigadier scowled. ‘Very well, Osgood. You’d better
order them then. And tell them it’s a priority!’
‘Yes, sir!’ Osgood left the lab smartly. As he passed
through the doors, the Brigadier was holding Liz Shaw’s
clipboard and showing it to Mike Yates.
‘Send these coordinates to Canberra, as it’s their neck of
the woods. We’d better find out more about this place the
Doctor’s so ingeniously marooned himself and Miss Shaw
on.’
The spacecraft was about seventy feet long and thirty wide at
its maximum, Liz estimated. Slight grooves and indentations
in its surface suggested the presence of access panels, exhaust
vents and viewports, but otherwise it was quite featureless.
She also suspected it had been in the crater for some time.
‘Look at the debris that’s collected on it,’ she commented,
as the Doctor painstakingly traced the faint outline of a large
hatch in the craft’s side. ‘It looks as though some of the rock
has splashed over it when it was molten and solidified in
place. It must have been here when the volcano was much
more active than it is now. Who’d want to land in an active
volcano?’
‘Somebody who wanted to keep their feet warm?’
suggested the Doctor absently. He found a particular spot on
the edge of the hatch and stood back a few paces, drawing out
his sonic screwdriver. Liz covered her ears as the device
warbled and buzzed shrilly. The hatch remained stubbornly
closed, however. He frowned, and adjusted the screwdriver’s
settings. This time the pitch was higher, but there was still no
reaction. Cautiously, the Doctor touched the spot on the hull
that he had been aiming at, as though expecting it to be hot,
then looked disappointed. ‘Hmm. It must absorb energy like a
sponge. Oh well, it was worth a try.’
Liz held out the detector again and checked the omicron
radiation reading. ‘There’s no doubt the artifact was once part
of this craft. At least we’ve solved the Brigadier’s puzzle.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the Doctor wryly, ‘but only by giving him an
even bigger one. What happened to destroy the craft between
now and our own time? Has it been abandoned here, or are the
crew still inside?’
Liz started. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘But surely, if they
were they’d have seen us by now and come out?’
‘Always assuming they’re still alive,’ the Doctor replied
sombrely. ‘I rather suspect this was a forced landing. Look
closely at the rear section. If you catch the angle of the light
correctly, you can see irregular patches as though panels have
been replaced and filled around.’
Liz examined the hull. ‘I think you’re right. But if the
repairs were completed, why didn’t they take off again?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps there was more serious internal
damage they couldn’t fix. And if the local environment was
unsuitable for them, they might have simply had to wait for
their life-support systems to run out.’
Liz shuddered. The thought of the craft as a sarcophagus
for the bodies of its alien crew was a disturbing one. With an
effort, she tried to be business-like. ‘Well, we can’t find out
anything else here without more equipment. I suppose we can
look around to see if the crew left any other traces around
here.’
They did not have to look far. Twenty yards along the
broad ledge they came upon a second piece of alien machinery
half buried by dust and a large slab of fallen rock resting
against it. The Doctor pushed the slab aside and they
examined their new find.
Liz thought it looked like an abandoned oversized
pneumatic road drill, with its chisel tip deeply embedded in
the top of a conical mound of fine rock fragments. There were
even two long handle-like projections jutting out from either
side of the upper part of its cylindrical body, which was some
five feet long. They had to scramble up the mound to peer at
the top of the device. Here the resemblance to a road drill
ceased, as there was a control panel on top with several
flickering indicator lights burning feebly under a layer of dust
and grime.
‘It’s still working!’ Liz exclaimed. ‘But what is it for?’
The Doctor studied the lights intently for a moment, then
gave the whole device an experimental shove. It did not move.
‘Probably some sort of emergency thermal-electric
generator. A shaft has been drilled perhaps hundreds of yards
down into the hot rocks under the volcano and a conductor
lowered to the bottom. The temperature difference between
there and the surface generates power. If it’s been going long
enough at high capacity, it might even have prematurely
cooled the volcano and helped stabilize the crater.’
‘But how long has it been working? And what for?’
The Doctor ran an experimental finger over the surface of
the device, drawing a line in the dust. It was caked on thickly.
‘Ten years?’ he ventured. ‘Twenty, fifty? I’m not sure, nor
why. But however long it’s been doing whatever it does, it
won’t for much longer. Look at that indicator flicker and fade.
Either the mechanism is failing or there’s not enough thermal
energy left to draw on.’
Liz looked down at the steadily steaming crater. ‘But it’s
still pretty hot down there. How can it be running out of
power?’
‘It rather depends on how much it needs, doesn’t it?’ said
the Doctor, significantly.
Liz felt the surroundings were becoming depressing and
too full of unresolvable mysteries. It was frustrating to be
without the proper tools to investigate in more detail. She
needed some fresh air. She looked at the cliff behind them.
‘Let’s see if we can climb out of here. Who knows, perhaps
the crew of the ship did the same and left some other
equipment lying around?’
‘All right, Liz,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘At least we should get
a good view from up there.’
The Brigadier was still in the lab when Mike returned from
the communications room, watching Osgood and his assistants
begin the re-wiring in preparation for the new accumulators.
He was checking Liz’s carefully written notes against the
labelled switches and indicators on the visualizer control
panel.
‘Canberra have acknowledged our request, sir,’ Mike
reported. ‘They’ll get on to it at once and send the information
as they find it.’
‘Good,’ the Brigadier acknowledged. He gestured at the
device before him. ‘You realize as there’s nobody else better
qualified, I might have to work this thing when the power is
turned back on again, Yates. Assuming they’re not waiting to
be picked up again, that is.’ He bent his head again.
‘According to the notes, the far end, or whatever you call it,
can be steered.’
‘Yes, sir. I saw the Doctor do it.’
‘Did you? Well you’d better stand by then, just in case.’
‘I’m sure the Doctor and Miss Shaw will be all right, sir.’
‘Of course they will,’ the Brigadier asserted confidently.
‘Teach them a lesson for mucking about with this contraption.
Good for them to have to rough it for a night outdoors, eh?’
‘Quite, sir,’ Mike agreed. He wasn’t fooled. He could see
the Brigadier was worried about the lost scientists but
wouldn’t admit it. Underneath his reserve and occasional
bluster, Mike guessed he was a real softie at heart.
There was a muffled curse and the clang of a dropped tool
from the accumulator racks. Osgood had pinched his finger in
his pliers. The Brigadier spun round, eyes blazing.
‘Great heavens, man! If you can’t even wire a plug
properly I’ll find somebody who can, and you’ll be standing
the next three months’ guard duty!’
Yes, just a big softie all right, thought Mike.
The climb to the top of the crater rim was not difficult, and the
view was certainly rewarding. As Liz had suspected from the
latitude and longitude of the time bridge portal, they found
that a thickly forested island was spread out below them. It
was about five miles long by three wide, and was encircled by
the broken ring of a white foamed reef. Beyond, the sparkling
blue waters of the Pacific rolled away to the horizon under a
rapidly sinking tropical sun.
Except something didn’t look quite right.
Liz blinked several times. ‘Doctor, does everything get
blurred a mile or so out from the reef, or are my eyes playing
tricks?’
‘Your eyes are fine, Liz. There’s some sort of distortion
field effect surrounding the island. It covers the sky as well.’
Squinting upward through her spread fingers, she saw what
he meant. The sun seemed to shimmer slightly, and its image
was smeared out and fuzzy round the edges.
‘This might be what that device back in the crater is doing,’
the Doctor speculated. ‘Projecting a low intensity force field
that distorts light waves.’
‘What for?’
‘Well, if it’s adjusted properly, it could conceal the island
from outside observation.’
‘Making the island invisible?’
‘Not perfectly. But it would certainly make it less
noticeable.’
‘But who wants to hide a whole island?’
‘More to the point, Liz, why do they want to hide a whole
island?’
Benton entered the lab carrying a sheet of telex paper.
‘First report from Canberra on the investigation, sir.’ He
handed the sheet to the Brigadier, who scanned the contents
intently while he and Yates looked on. Suddenly the Brigadier
stiffened in annoyance.
‘Something wrong, sir?’ Mike enquired anxiously.
‘I might have known it,’ the Brigadier said tersely.
‘According to this, there is no known island at the coordinates
we sent them. The Doctor and Miss Shaw have managed to
lose themselves on a place that doesn’t exist!’
Seven
T
hat night after dinner they all went out on deck with their
drinks again to watch the shimmer in the night air, where
the mirage-like veil that cloaked the island caused the images
of the moon and stars to blur and flicker. Nancy recalled the
strange sensation of passing through that wall of haze, and
seeing the island fade into being in what had seemed open
ocean only moments before. ‘There it is: the lost island of
Salutua,’ Sternberg had proudly announced. Well she wished
it had stayed lost!
She heard Dodgeson exclaim: ‘There! See! It almost
cleared completely then. It’s not steady all the time. Mighty
peculiar. Wonder what causes it?’
‘A remarkable phenomena,’ Sternberg agreed, and
launched into a discourse on ‘refractivity indexes’ and
‘waveforms’, which the rest listened to with polite
incomprehension.
While they were diverted, Nancy approached Amelia and
said in a low voice: ‘We’ve got to talk. Not in front of the
others.’ Amelia frowned, then nodded, and they made their
way down the sloping deck towards the stern. It was not the
first time they had settled disagreements in private. Neither
wanted a scene that might hurt Grover.
Because of the angle at which they were beached, the stern
deck of the Constitution was only a few feet above the
sluggish waves, now that the tide was in. Nancy found it
disconcerting to see the water so close, with the feeling they
were about to tip over into it, but at least here she could look
away from the island. She found its dark bulk rather sinister in
the moonlight.
‘Well, Nancy?’ Amelia asked simply.
‘Larry de Veer told me you are going to be acting as my
stand-in until they can get a full crew here.’
‘That’s right. Wearing Anni and with the right clothes and
one of your hairpieces, he thinks he can take some “long
shots”, as he calls them.’ She smiled. ‘It might be fun. What’s
the matter? I thought you’d be pleased the filming could get
started quickly.’
‘He said if you did well, he was thinking of writing you
into the picture.’
‘Oh, that! He talked about it, but I’m sure he was only
joking.’ She looked quizzically at Nancy. ‘You don’t think he
was serious? Nancy, I can’t act and I have no ambition to be
in the movies. Anyway, who would go and see a one-armed
actress?’
‘Larry seems to think otherwise. Said it might be
something different, something a bit daring. He started to spin
a yarn about a girl who was washed up from a shipwreck after
losing her arm to a shark, but still made good on an island full
of monsters. That’s you – the heroine of the whole film!’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Oh? He thought you might be interested in doing it
because it would help all those charities for cripples you
support. Show them you can still make it even if you are
missing an arm – that sort of thing.’
‘Well he never told me.’
‘Really? He’s trying to edge me out of the picture, ain’t he?
And you’re the only person who can do it for him, because
Marshal would back his precious daughter over me when it
came to a choice!’
Amelia’s voice became sterner. ‘I am not trying to steal the
picture from you, Nancy. I think you’re becoming obsessed by
the whole business.’
‘Maybe I have to be. It’s the only way to make it when you
start where I did.’
‘There’s no need to bring that up. I’ve never held your
roots against you, Nancy, you know that. I’m sorry if you feel
otherwise.’
‘Stop being so damn decent!’ Nancy exploded. Amelia
flinched away at the unexpected force of her reaction.
‘You don’t get it at all, do you?’ Nancy continued, with a
touch of contempt in her voice. ‘You couldn’t be like that
where I grew up. You had to kick and grab or you got nothing
and nowhere. Being decent’s a luxury for those who had the
breaks. You always could afford to give it out to everybody
free, and don’t they love you for it! Look at the crippled girl;
she’s so brave and uncomplaining and helpful even with no
arm! ’Course, she still had a father with money and a fine
house behind her. I had none of that!’
Amelia recovered her composure and did not rise to the
accusation. Instead she said levelly: ‘Possibly I was lucky, in a
way – but that’s another matter. In any case, you can’t
seriously believe I’m a threat to your career. Surely you’ve
got everything you want now?’
‘You can never have everything you want, because you
never know how much you’re going to need! You’d know that
if you’d crawled up from the bottom like me.’
‘Perhaps. As you pointed out, I’m not qualified to judge.’
‘Clam it! You’re being too reasonable again!’
‘I can only be myself, Nancy.’
‘Your sanctimonious self.’
‘If you like. I make no secret of my belief, you know that.
Do you object?’
‘Let’s just say I’ve learnt to believe in myself first! Your
God’s never done me any favours that I’ve noticed.’ Amelia’s
expression made Nancy smile. ‘Does it shock you, talking like
that? Maybe you should say a prayer for me.’
‘If you want me to.’
‘What I want you to do is –’
There was a shout from an upper deck that cut through her
words: ‘Something moving in the water off the starboard
quarter.’
‘Get a light on it!’
As they watched, a searchlight crackled into life and the
beam swung round, probing the darkness and washing out the
stars. Thrown into high relief they saw what appeared to be a
flattish rock, perhaps four or five feet across, wallowing in the
sluggish shallow waters some thirty yards away. At first there
seemed no reason for the lookout’s alarm. Then Nancy
realized the ‘rock’ was moving steadily towards the shore. Not
being carried in by the waves, but progressing purposefully
under its own power.
‘There’s another one!’
A second ‘rock’ came into view close to the first, also
heading for the shore.
‘Lights!’ bellowed Captain Pascoe’s voice. ‘Get more
lights all round!’ One by one, searchlights and lanterns sprang
into life, flooding the beach with stark light and dancing
shadows.
‘They’re portside too!’ someone exclaimed. They could
now see at least a dozen of the objects, all making for the
beach.
Amelia whispered breathlessly: ‘Can you hear something?’
Nancy realized she could. An odd sharp clicking noise,
repeated several times. It seemed to be all around them, as
though it were being transmitted through the water itself.
Then a hundred yards along the shore, transfixed by a
searchlight beam, a ‘rock’ heaved itself out of the gentle wash
of waves on eight jointed legs and stalked jerkily across the
sand. It was a crab. Its shell, from which water was still
streaming, was at least six feet across. Massive serrated claws
clicked together menacingly, its arms flexing and weaving
about almost as though it were beckoning to an invisible
opponent; it reminded Nancy curiously of a boxer warming up
for a title fight. Another crab marched ashore to join the first.
Nancy stood beside Amelia at the rail, their differences
temporarily forgotten, both captivated by the spectacle before
them. Oddly, as she would recall afterwards, she felt no fear at
that moment, only amazement and disbelief at the sight of the
grotesque creatures. They seemed detached from the scene,
like spectators at an aquarium.
Then there was a splash and rush of water almost at their
feet, together with a heavy click and scraping sound. They
spun about only to freeze in horror.
A huge claw had locked about a railing stanchion. Metal
groaned. A crusted shell heaved into view. Stalked eyes
bulged coldly towards them, while below twitching feeding
palps worked hungrily about the crab’s mouth. A second claw
locked on to the railing, and the creature began to climb on to
the deck.
At that the spell broke, and Nancy and Amelia both leapt
backward. In her terror, Nancy barged into Amelia, knocking
her against the rail, which she automatically grabbed at for
support. There was a rending screech of metal as the bolts of a
stanchion plate gave way under the crab’s weight, and the
beast toppled backward and disappeared with a terrific splash.
But its claw was still locked about the stanchion and it went as
well, dragging ten feet of railing with it. Before she could let
go and regain her balance, Amelia was catapulted over the
side.
For a moment Nancy thought she had fallen into the water.
Then she saw one white-knuckled hand clasped desperately to
the twisted rail as it sagged further out over the side.
‘Nancy – help!’
And for one timeless, frozen moment Nancy hesitated,
watching the clenched fingers slip along the rail.
‘Please!’
Then sudden cries of alarm and the crack of a rifle from the
main deck jerked her out of her spell. She reached out, just as
Amelia’s hold broke.
There was a slight quick splash.
Nancy leant over the rail.
‘Amelia!’
For a moment she could not see her in the confusion of
lights dancing across the waves. The multiple crack of rifles
began from somewhere forward, and she heard bullets smack
into the water. Amelia’s head broke the surface and Nancy
heard her choking. Ten yards away from her another humped
crab shell appeared. Where was a life belt? There should be
one on the railing. No, it had been torn away. Where was the
next nearest? She had no idea, she couldn’t think. Why did it
have to be up to her?
‘Get to the pontoon!’ she shouted. What else could she do?
Then she realized it was on the other side of the yacht.
Amelia had fallen in just on the port side of the stern. The
pontoon was on the starboard side. Could Amelia get round
the stern? There was a jerk on the other length of broken
railing where it trailed into the water. The first crab was still
there. It was trying to climb aboard again!
It was too much for her. Nancy ran. Up a stairway to the
main deck, and into a confusion of light and noise. A haze of
gunsmoke filled the air. Sailors were lining the rails, firing
down into the sea. At the head of the accommodation ladder
she saw a crab’s severed claw lying on the deck, and a sailor
leaning over the rail swinging a fire axe.
Suddenly she collided with somebody and screamed in
reflex, until she realized it was Grover.
‘Am...Amelia! She’s in the water...’ she managed to say.
She saw the colour drain from Grover’s face and he
seemed ready to faint. And in that moment her concern for
Amelia was chilled by the realization of what the possibility
of losing his daughter meant to Grover. His expression told it
all, and she knew, for all her charms, she could never instil
such depth of love.
With a heroic effort, Grover recovered himself.
‘Where?’ he demanded.
‘The stern...other side..’
Grover shouted orders. Sailors ran across the deck. Lights
were swung round. Nancy clung to Grover’s arm and was
dragged along until they were leaning over the port rail.
They were just in time to see Amelia struggling through the
shallows only yards ahead of a giant crab. A hasty fusillade of
fire broke out and bullets started to rebound from the
creature’s thick carapace, distracting it from its prey for a
moment, but not halting it.
‘Get a cargo net over the side!’ Grover bellowed. ‘Amy!
This way!’
But even as Amelia turned, Nancy saw another crab had
emerged from the water and was working its way along the
side of the ship, exploring the hull curiously, lifting itself up
on many-jointed legs as though straining to reach the rails.
Even as gunfire began to rain down upon it, a third crab
surfaced behind it, also following the line of the hull and
effectively cutting Amelia off from the yacht.
Now the shoreline as far as their lights could reach was
dotted with the giant creatures; the clicking of their claws
setting up a ghastly clatter, and their odd beckoning arm
gestures adding a macabre animation to the scene. Nancy
realized the two ragged lines of crabs embraced the
Constitution on both sides. Steadily, with an almost military
purpose, they began to stalk forward, their two lines joining as
they cleared the yacht, carelessly driving Amelia before them.
There was no time for a rescue and no way left for her to go,
except one. With a desperate half wave, she stumbled away up
the beach ahead of the advancing horde and disappeared
between the palms into the darkness of the forest beyond.
‘Are you ready now, Corporal?’ the Brigadier demanded.
Osgood checked over the connections one last time. ‘Yes,
sir,’ he announced. Mentally he crossed his fingers.
‘And about time!’ exclaimed the Brigadier, turning back to
the visualizer control panel. Osgood pulled out a handkerchief
and mopped the sweat off his brow.
It had been a hectic few hours. After receiving the first
dispatch from Canberra, the Brigadier had decided that they
couldn’t afford to wait for the new accumulators in case the
Doctor and Liz were in trouble. He had remorselessly
questioned Osgood about the power shortage until he had had
to admit there might be something he could do. By charging
the remaining accumulators to capacity, linking the heaviest
live main he could run in to the transformers, and diverting
most of the building’s power, Osgood managed to bring the
system up to working potential. Not enough, according to the
figures Liz had carefully noted down, for more than a few
seconds of full trans-temporal interface, but it might just be
sufficient – assuming that the lost scientists were ready and
waiting for the bridge to appear.
If they were not, that would be another problem, of course.
But at least, Osgood thought with relief, it would not be his.
Consulting Liz’s notes, the Brigadier cautiously powered
up the system. Osgood could see he was uncomfortable
operating the complex machinery, but there was really no one
better qualified, and the Brigadier was not the sort to shirk
responsibility. Mike Yates stood by the TARDIS console,
while Benton was positioned before the image coil to note any
changes. The machinery hummed into life. Osgood watched
the accumulators, replacement connections and rectifiers, and
hoped none would fail under the load.
‘Nothing yet,’ Benton reported. ‘Hold on, it’s flickering.
Now it’s gone grey. Ah, I can see it now. It’s dark. Lots of
black rocks and smoke. No sign of the Doc and Miss Shaw.’
‘Try the light,’ the Brigadier ordered.
Benton had a powerful hand-held mini-spotlight ready.
They guessed it would be night at the other end too by now, as
the time of day had seemed approximately synchronous
earlier. He shone it through the coil, the beam appearing to
cross the time interface without noticeable attentuation. It
illuminated rocks and steam, but nothing else.
‘Still nothing, sir.’
‘We’ll try rotating the thing. Stand by.’ Cautiously, he
moved a large dial. The image within the coil wobbled and
turned slowly until they made a complete circuit.
‘Anything, Benton?’
‘I’m doing a fair impression of a lighthouse, sir, but that’s
all. Maybe we need a foghorn,’ Benton suggested helpfully.
‘I didn’t hear any sound come through until it was on full
power,’ Yates pointed out.
‘Well we can’t afford to experiment,’ said the Brigadier.
‘Power down to five percent.’ The image in the coil paled and
became fuzzy. The Brigadier pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘If
they’re nearby, which they should be if they have any sense,
they would have seen the light and come running. As they
didn’t...’ He let the sentence hang ominously.
‘You think they might be in trouble, sir?’ Benton asked.
‘We must consider the possibility, Benton. The confounded
nuisance is that we don’t know anything about the place.’
Osgood saw Mike take a deep breath. ‘Sir, we should have
enough power for one person to go through if they’re quick
about it. If it would help, I’m willing to try to find them, or at
least make a reconnaissance for a larger party to follow on
later.’ Osgood shook his head in dismay. First rule of army
life, he thought to himself: never volunteer.
The Brigadier considered for a moment, regarding Mike
keenly. ‘All right, Yates,’ he said at last. ‘Get yourself kitted
out. Better take a gas mask by the looks of it. Back here as
soon as you can.’
The rescue party had been assembled on the Constitution’s
main deck within minutes of the last crab disappearing into
the forest. All carried lanterns and were armed with rifles, and
a couple shouldered packs of dynamite sticks.
Montgomery appeared from the direction of his cabin
carrying his own sporting rifle. ‘Room for one more?’ he
enquired lightly.
Grover eyed him doubtfully. ‘Sure you’re up to it?’
‘He’s drunk, Marshal, ignore him,’ Nancy said
contemptuously. She had been hovering uncertainly on the
edge of the activity, wrapped up in her private world of shame
and resentment. It felt good to strike out, to highlight
somebody else’s failings at that moment. It helped conceal her
own.
Montgomery turned to her with unexpected composure.
‘Drunk or sober, Nancy, I’m still a damned good shot. I
plugged an ant this morning right between –’
‘Okay, Montgomery,’ Grover said quickly. ‘We need every
man we can spare. And thanks.’
‘He still wants to help, even though it might be dangerous,’
de Veer observed by Nancy’s side, in a low but not totally
discreet tone. ‘But perhaps you’re not familiar with the
concept that embodies?’
‘I don’t see you volunteering!’
‘I’m no hero and a rotten shot, I freely admit,’ he replied
calmly. ‘But at least I don’t pretend to be what I’m not.’
With Grover at its head, the party tramped down the
accommodation ladder to the heavily guarded pontoon and up
the duckboarding to the now deserted beach, which was
pockmarked with the tracks of the crabs. In a half a minute the
rescuers had also disappeared into the forest.
‘You know, Doctor,’ said Liz conversationally, ‘I was
planning to wash my hair tonight, then watch a documentary
on BBC2. I really didn’t expect to spend it marooned on a
Pacific island in nineteen thirty-four!’
‘Oh. What was the documentary about?’ the Doctor
enquired mildly.
Liz grimaced. ‘Popular theories about the possibility of
time travel, if you must know.’ The Doctor raised a curious
eyebrow. ‘I thought it might be amusing,’ she responded
defensively.
They had made a camp on the crater rim and had lit a
brushwood fire to keep away the insects. Liz reckoned the
time bridge would not be repaired at least until morning, so
they might as well be comfortable. The still and heavy night
had dampened the air circulation within the crater, making it
no place to rest. So the Doctor had left a note where the time
portal should materialize, explaining where they were just in
case. Now all they could do was wait.
It was as she turned over for the fifth time, trying to get
comfortable, that the distant echoes of gunfire drifted across
the island.
The Doctor sprang to his feet alertly, striding forward and
shielding his eyes from the glare of their fire. Liz rose more
uncertainly, peering into the darkness. Unconsciously she had
assumed the island must be deserted, otherwise the spaceship
could not have lain apparently untouched for so long. Now it
seemed she had been wrong. She knew things were going to
get complicated. They always did when the Doctor was
around.
‘There,’ he said suddenly. ‘Lights on the shore, I think.
Can’t see them directly – the trees must be in the way.’
Yes, Liz could see them now. Pale intermittent flickers
lighting up the sky and the occasional suggestion of a beam,
as though a searchlight had been pointed briefly upward. A
couple of miles away at least, she estimated. For another two
minutes the gunfire continued almost unabated. Then it trailed
sporadically away into an uneasy silence, and they were left
straining their eyes and ears for any further disturbance.
It came quite unexpectedly.
The Doctor suddenly winced, and clapped his hands over
his ears.
‘What’s wrong?’ Liz asked in alarm. Then she heard it
herself: a shrill cry falling in pitch and entering her range of
hearing. Then came another, and another, until the whole
island seemed to be alive with the ghastly shrieks and wails.
She saw the Doctor, grim faced, take out his sonic screwdriver
and adjust its settings. Then he picked up the torch and turned
towards her.
‘Maybe you’d better stay here –’ he began.
‘Not on your life,’ Liz retorted hotly. ‘I’m coming with
you!’ She picked out the first aid kit from the Doctor’s pack
and stood ready.
The Doctor gave a half-smile. ‘I rather thought you would.
But please stay alert. And remember, if in doubt...’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t be too proud to run away!’
They set off down the gentle slope of the volcano towards
the straggling edge of the forest.
Mike was back in the laboratory within fifteen minutes. He
had already compiled a mental list of what he needed before
making his offer to the Brigadier, and he had wasted no time
in gathering it. He was well aware of the risk he was taking,
and equally certain he was not acting out of bravado or a
foolish attempt to impress. A job needed doing and he thought
he was the best equipped for it.
He was now wearing lightweight tropical camouflage
dress, together with a basic pack and medical kit. Slung over
his shoulder was a compact sub-machine-gun with a folding
stock, while on his belt were clipped several spare magazines
and a couple of grenades. In his hand was a gas mask ready to
put on.
‘Ready, sir,’ he announced.
‘Right you are, Yates,’ the Brigadier acknowledged
briskly. ‘Remember we should be fully operational again in
eighteen hours at the outside, but we’ll keep a continuous
watch on low power. No point in taking a radio, even if it
works through this thing, because the crater walls would
shield it. If you find the Doctor and Miss Shaw galavanting
about somewhere, get them back to the crater and keep them
there. You can tell them it’s on my orders, and don’t stand for
any nonsense. Any questions?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then off you go – and good luck!’
Mike crossed to stand before the visualizer coil, pulling on
his gas mask. Benton gave him a slap on the shoulder and a
thumbs-up. Mike snapped on his torch, his other hand resting
lightly on his gun. The system powered up, and the image
within the coil grew sharper.
‘Counting down for full power,’ the Brigadier announced.
‘Three, two, one, go!’ He twisted a dial hard over.
The image solidified in the coil and Mike jumped through.
There was a slight tingle, which might have been his
imagination, and then he was in the steamy darkness of the
crater.
Behind him the time portal hung unsupported a few inches
above the ground, the glow of the laboratory lights fanning
out across the rocks. The images of Benton and the Brigadier
were already blurred again since the power had been reduced.
He gave a reassuring wave, then cautiously moved forward,
probing the gloom with his torch.
He came upon a low cairn of stones after only a few paces.
The note on top had been moistened by the steam and
plastered itself to the rock, which was why they had not seen
it from the other side of the portal:
SELF AND MISS SHAW CAMPED FOR THE NIGHT ON
CRATER RIM AS INTERIOR INSALUBRIOUS. IF YOU
RESTORE TIME BRIDGE BEFORE DAYBREAK, THE
WAY UP IS TO THE RIGHT OF THE SPACESHIP.
THE DOCTOR.
To the right of what? Still, Mike was relieved. At least it
explained why they hadn’t seen the searchlight. There was an
arrow made from loose pebbles beside the cairn, and he
followed on in the direction indicated. Soon he was scaling
the shelving ledges of the crater wall, where he came suddenly
upon the dark mass of the alien spaceship. Undeniably the
jackpot, he conceded, playing his torch over it curiously for a
moment.
He found the cleft in the rocks that formed a path up the
cliff. The air got clearer as he ascended and he removed his
gas mask. A scattering of stars and a bright moon became
visible. As he topped the rise he saw the glow of a campfire
and opened his mouth to call out. Then distant sounds came to
his ears which caused him automatically to swing his gun
round to the ready.
Somewhere out in the moonlit forest stretching away below
him, a battle was being fought.
There was a steady barrage of rifle shots, punctuated
intermittently by the boom and crump of high explosives. But
most unnerving was the clamour that backed these familiar
sounds. A terrible cacophony of ear-splitting screams and
shrieks that sent a shiver down his spine. What on Earth could
make such sounds? He thought of the vessel in the crater
behind him. Perhaps it was not of Earth at all!
‘Doctor! Miss Shaw!’ he called out. There was no reply.
Staying alert, he jogged across to the camp. There was no
sign of them, but the well-built fire suggested they had not
been gone long. But where had they gone? Into the thick of it,
of course, and no doubt quite unprepared. He sighed,
beginning to understand the Brigadier’s often expressed
exasperation with civilians and scientists. Then he squared his
shoulders and started off down the slope towards the sounds
of battle.
Amelia stumbled on through the moonlit forest.
At first, when she had been forced to flee before the crabs,
she had thought she might be able to get round their flank and
make her way back to the beach. But the giants had kept up a
remorselessly steady pace, picking their way with surprising
delicacy between the great trees. The snapping of their claws
was ever at her heels, and it took all her energy simply to stay
ahead of them. Then the terrible shrieking had begun.
It had sounded disturbing enough the previous night when
she was safe onboard the Constitution. But now, lost amidst
the shadows of the forest, it was horrifying. It seemed to come
from all sides at once, disorientating her. She wanted to
escape from it, but which way should she go?
She ran desperately, bruised and scratched, her clothes torn
by numerous falls over root tendrils. Shelter! She had to find
some sort of shelter – sanctuary from the ripping claws of the
crabs and from the unknown shriekers. And then, distantly,
she heard the sound of gunfire once more, interspersed with
occasional explosions. The fight had resumed. Were the crabs
attacking the ship again? Should she try to head back towards
the sound, or would that only invite more trouble? No, the
most sensible thing to do was hide and wait.
A long dark shape blocked her path. A fallen tree. Dimly
she could make out a slight hollow in the ground under it.
Surely the crabs, with their great bulk, would not be able to
reach her there.
Amelia went down on her knees and scrabbled and
slithered forward. She felt the rotted remains of a branch
under her, covered by vines and dead leaves. Suddenly her
outstretched hand pushed through the debris and she fell
forward heavily, her arm disappearing up to her shoulder.
She could feel nothing below her!
With a crack and snap of wood the ground gave way and
she dropped into the blackness of a pit.
Eight
G
rover had led the rescue party half a mile into the forest,
trailing the line of stalking crabs and desperately
watching for any sign of Amelia, when they heard the first
cry. It froze them in their tracks. In their haste they had
completely forgotten the mysterious shriekers. It took an
effort to press on but they did so, if more warily. Minutes
passed. The cries were repeated, growing in strength, a chorus
beginning to form as it had the night before.
Then they caught up with the crabs. They had halted their
advance, and were shortening their line, emerging from the
trees on either side to converge on a moonlit glade barely a
hundred yards ahead. It was almost as though a challenge had
been issued, calling them to that spot. A challenge to battle.
The shrieking chorus redoubled in volume. The crabs
responded with a clatter of snapping claws.
‘I don’t get it,’ hissed Ferraro, clasping his gun ever tighter
and peering round intently. ‘I still can’t see what’s making all
the racket. Where are they?’ He sounded angry rather than
frightened, and Grover admired his nerve.
‘I don’t know, but we’d better try to get round them or else
–’
He saw a flicker of motion over the cluster of crabs, as
though a shadow had fallen to earth. Then another and
another. He had the impression of silent wings spread, of half
gliding forms. The huge crustaceans suddenly began to rear
and twist and flail about them with their claws. Dark shapes as
large as men were suddenly clinging to their backs, clawing
and biting.
‘Bats! They’re in the trees! Watch out!’
A shriek of almost tangible intensity cut through them. A
dark form dropped out of the night on to a sailor and bore him
to the ground in a shroud of black leathery wings. He gave a
cry of terror that choked off in a bloody gurgle. Before his
comrades could aid him there was another shriek, as mind-
numbing as the first. Grover saw a bat, wings outstretched,
flash through a moonbeam. For an instant he took in a face
dominated by a huge nose formed of intricately folded leaves
of flesh, below which gaped a jaw full of needle fangs.
Ferraro snapped off a shot and the creature fell out of the air
with a cry of pain.
Then it seemed to rain bats, and suddenly the rescue party
was scattering in confusion through the trees, its individual
members fighting for their lives.
A bat flopped to the ground before Grover, mouth gaping.
The shrill intensity of its cry cut through his body like a buzzsaw. It resonated inside his skull, driving reason from his
mind and reducing him to a trembling, stupefied wretch.
Vision blurring, he dimly saw the hideous thing that was the
source of the intolerable sound as it hopped awkwardly
towards him. Fearfully he cowered from it, and, drawing on
every scrap of willpower, he raised his rifle and fired.
There was a scream of pain. The terrible sound died. His
mind cleared. He fired again and again until the creature lay
still.
Shaken, he looked around, trying to make sense of what
was happening.
The bats were too big to fly properly and clumsy on the
ground, but they had a weapon that more than compensated
for those shortcomings. He would never have believed that
sound could be used in such a manner, but now he understood.
It engendered fear, it confused the mind. It could even kill.
He saw a half-circle of five or six bats shrieking in unison
at a single crab. The beast swayed, snapping at them futilely
with its claws, its legs on one side working madly churning
the earth, but the other side of its body apparently paralysed
and dragging it down, causing it to flail around in a maddened
circle. The shrieks oscillated, as though searching the scale.
Suddenly there was a sharp crack as they struck the deadly
resonance and its shell split. The crab jerked and collapsed
and was still.
The forest for as far as Grover could see was a nightmare
confusion of hulking shapes half seen in the scattered shafts of
moonlight, punctuated by brilliant flashes of wildly swinging
torches. Men fought crab and bat, even as the beasts fought
each other. Then came a sudden flash and boom of dynamite.
Pieces of crab and twisted shards of bat wing flew through the
air. Over the bedlam he heard Ferraro shouting orders, trying
to gather the men together and get a tree at their backs. Only
then could they shoot without fear of hitting comrades and use
their explosives to greatest effect. Grover stumbled towards
the ring of men and added his rifle to their fire. He found
Montgomery beside him, blazing away at the monsters
surrounding them with wild enthusiasm.
‘What sport, eh, Grover?’ he shouted, as he paused to
reload.
Between the trees he saw a lone sailor plucked off the
ground in the pincers of a crab and cut almost in two. Ferraro
snatched another stick of dynamite from a pack, lit its short
fuse, and tossed it under the crab. The explosion blew off its
legs and the creature collapsed grotesquely.
The primeval conflict raged about the huddled knot of
survivors, pressing them back to the great tree. If there had
been a chance to escape they would have taken it, but there
was no clear path. The best they could hope for was to keep
the warring beasts clear until the battle was over or moved
away. But then, from out of the darkness, they heard the
shouts and screams of those sailors that had been separated
from the main group.
Grover heard Ferraro curse. ‘We’ve got to go after them!
We can’t leave them to die!’
‘It’ll be suicide, man!’ Grover shouted back above the
gunfire and shrieking. ‘This is the best shelter we’ve got.’
‘No! We can make it if we stick together and watch our
backs.’ His eyes blazed. ‘I’ve never turned my back on a
shipmate yet, and I’m not starting now!’
Grover saw he was absolutely resolute, and could not help
but admire his courage.
‘All right, Ferraro. We’ll try it.’
And then came a new sound.
It was like the bat’s cry but subtlety altered: rising and
falling in waves, as though a beam of sound was being swung
back and forth across the forest, as one would swing a torch.
And as it did so the shrieks of the bats faltered and died, and
the crabs turned about uncertainly, as though suspicious of
some new foe. The sound increased in intensity, and the beasts
began to shuffle uneasily. The bats hopped towards the trees
and, digging into the bark with sharp claws, began to climb
back to their roosts. The crabs clicked and stalked away into
the shadows, heading for the beach once more, and in
moments the last wounded survivors had dragged themselves
out of sight.
The forest was still again. The only sign that the incredible
battle had ever occurred was the dead of both species that
littered the ground, along with the bodies of men.
A man and woman appeared through the trees. The man
was casting about him with some device he was holding in his
outstretched arm. Each time it pointed at them they could feel
a shrill of sound. It made them want to fall back before it, but
they held their ground. Suddenly the sound cut off as the man
pocketed the device and the two strangers advanced towards
them. Ferraro pointed his torch. Grover saw the man had a
shock of white hair, a long face, and a prominent nose.
Incongruously, he was dressed in a dark velvet jacket with a
frilly shirt collar. His companion wore a short white lab coat,
below which were odd calf-length boots. Her mass of blonde
hair curled, and was pinned up high on her head.
The strange man spoke. His tone was deep and concerned,
and oddly reassuring. It made Grover think of his father.
‘Sorry we couldn’t reach you sooner, but it’s a trifle hard to
find one’s way in this place.’
‘You’re English? What are you doing here? And how did
you chase off those creatures?’
‘Later, old chap. Hadn’t you better find out if any of your
companions have survived? All we’ve seen are bodies so far,
but there’s a chance –’
‘Yes, of course. Ferraro, spread the men out. Circle the
glade...’ Grover paused to wipe his brow as the sailors began
their search. ‘It was that dreadful noise,’ he explained. ‘Makes
it hard to think straight. I’m not usually as slow as this.’
‘I quite understand, my dear fellow,’ said the stranger
considerately. ‘By the way, this is Doctor Elizabeth Shaw –
Liz to her friends – and I’m, er, Doctor Smith.’
‘Though everybody just calls him the Doctor,’ his
companion said helpfully.
Grover introduced himself, recovering something of his
normal self-possession. ‘Where did you come from? We’d
have seen anyone enter the lagoon, unless you got here before
us.’
‘No, we only arrived a few hours ago,’ admitted the
Doctor.
‘We landed, uh, elsewhere on the island,’ Elizabeth Shaw
added. ‘And when we heard all that shrieking from our camp,
we thought we’d better investigate.’
‘But how did you find Salutua in the first place?’ Grover
asked. Now he was over his initial surprise, he was beginning
to wonder about the two newcomers.
‘Believe me,’ said Doctor Shaw with feeling, casting an
odd glance at her companion, ‘it wasn’t easy.’
‘Yes, a most singular island,’ the Doctor continued
heartily. ‘And you’re investigating it as well, I suppose.’
‘Only in a small way,’ Grover said quickly. ‘Mostly, we’re
here to shoot a motion picture.’
‘Really, how interesting.’ The Doctor brightened. ‘You
haven’t got anybody I know in it, I suppose? Dougie
Fairbanks Senior, perhaps? No, he never managed the
transition to the talkies, did he.’
‘Doctor!’ his companion said sharply.
‘Quite so. Reminiscences later. You’ll want to get on now.
What were you doing out here in the middle of the night, by
the way?’
‘My daughter, Amelia. She’s lost out here somewhere.’
‘Then as soon as you’ve gathered your men together you
must keep searching for her, of course. We’ll help.’
‘Thanks, Doctor. And for getting rid of those creatures.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Don’t mention it, old chap, it was my
pleasure.’
Mike Yates paused as the sounds of the conflict died away
and the normal rustles and chirpings of the forest night closed
in around him. He had planned to approach the battleground
unobserved, guided and concealed by the noise, and not
reveal, himself until he found what it was about and whether
the Doctor or Liz were involved. Now it looked as though he
might lose that advantage. Should he press on in the same
direction and try to stay hidden, or wait awhile and see what
else he could hear? If only it had been a straightforward
search he could have fired his gun at regular intervals to
attract the missing scientists’ attention. But the fight, whatever
it had been about, had made him cautious.
It was as he was debating the problem that he heard a faint,
muffled cry drifting through the forest.
‘Help...anybody...please help me...’
It sounded like a woman’s voice.
He moved forward silently. The cries got louder but
remained muffled. Where were they coming from? Should he
risk calling back? He saw a fallen tree looming out of the
darkness. The voice was much louder but still oddly distant.
‘Help me...please...’
The cry was so plaintive he had to respond.
‘Hallo. Where are you?’
‘Oh, thank goodness...’ There was a half-sob, then more
distinctly: ‘I’m in some sort of cave or pit under the fallen
tree. Be careful, the ground’s not safe.’
Mike got down flat, fitted the bayonet to his machine-gun,
and inched forward, probing ahead with it. In the shadows
under the tree he saw a ragged circle of deeper darkness.
Cautiously he shone his torch across it, shielding the beam as
much as possible.
‘Can you see my light?’
‘Yes, yes I can.’
‘How deep are you?’
‘About twenty feet, I think.’
‘All right. I’m going to make a line fast before I come any
closer, just in case.’
‘I understand...but please hurry...I think there’s something
alive down here.’
‘Can’t you keep away from it?’
‘No...I can’t move.’
Mike went cold. ‘Are you badly hurt? Is it your back.?’
‘No...it sounds silly, but I’m...stuck to something.’
‘What?’
‘It feels like a lot of ropes –’ There was a sudden gasp. ‘It’s
coming closer!’
Mike grabbed a trailing vine for some slight support and
slithered rapidly over to the hole, feeling the flimsy covering
of dead branches and matted vines sag as he did so, and shone
his torch downward. A few creepers and tree roots hung free
around the hole, fringing his view. Almost directly below the
pale face of a young woman with dark hair shone back at him,
blinking in the torchlight. She was wearing the tattered and
stained remains of what had been an evening dress, and was
sprawled on a webwork of faintly glistening strands that
stretched away into the darkness, tilted slightly backwards.
Then the web trembled, but the woman had not moved. She
twisted her head around and screamed. Mike swung the light
to follow her gaze.
The spider picking its way delicately across the web was
furred with thick black hair. The span of its outstretched legs
must have been over eight feet.
Mike fired a three second burst with his machine-gun even
as he felt the ground under him give way. He dropped the
torch and grabbed at a shaggy tree root, swinging free and
slithering almost to its end before it snapped. He hit the
ground clear of the web and rolled to break his fall before
coming to rest. For a moment he lay still, shaken, and slightly
winded. His rubberized shockproof torch bounced to a halt a
few feet away, its light splashing across a blank wall of ribbed
rock, curving up and over his head.
‘Are you all right?’ the woman called out anxiously.
‘Just about. Did I hit it?’
‘Yes...at least, I think so.’
Mike hastily scrabbled for his torch and flashed it towards
her. The remains of the spider hung on the web. The burst of
automatic fire had severed several limbs and had separated its
head from its thorax. Dripping body fluids gleamed stickily.
Mike gratefully turned the torch back on the young woman.
‘Right,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I’ll have you free of that in a
moment.’
‘Be careful, it’s very sticky. I think if you can just pull
slowly and evenly I can get loose. I can’t get any purchase by
myself.’
‘Okay, let’s get your arms clear first.’
Then he caught his breath. He thought her left arm was
folded behind her, but now he saw the sleeve of her evening
dress torn and empty. ‘Your arm!’ he said in dismay.
‘It’s all right. I lost it in an accident years ago.’
‘Thank goodness for that! No, I don’t mean...What I meant
was I thought...’ He trailed off awkwardly.
‘I think I know what you meant,’ she replied quietly. For a
moment he thought he had offended her, then he saw she was
smiling.
They looked into each other’s faces and suddenly broke
into mutual laughter. Mike was relieved to see the lifting of
tension in the woman’s face. Gently, he reached up and took
her right arm and began to pull it away from the web. It came
slowly free, trailing strings like half-set glue. He started work
on releasing her head.
‘We haven’t been introduced,’ she said, wincing as her hair
caught on the web. ‘I’m Amelia Grover.’
‘How do you do,’ replied Mike with a smile, trying to
match her composure. ‘Sergeant Mike Yates, British Army, at
your service. Presently on attachment to...’ He remembered
just in time that the United Nations did not exist in 1934: ‘...a
special scientific unit.’
‘But Salutua is in French territory. What is the British
Army doing here? Actually, I didn’t think there was anybody
here but us.’
‘Supporting an, er...international research project,’ Mike
said vaguely. It was close enough to the truth. ‘We’ve only
just got here. Set up a small camp on the mountain.’ He eased
her torso free of the web, allowing her to sit forward. ‘But
presently I’m searching for a couple of our scientists who’ve
gone missing. At least, that’s what I was doing when I heard
you calling. You haven’t seen anything of them, I suppose.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ said Amelia. ‘I do hope they’re safe.’
‘So do I,’ Mike replied dryly.
He tugged some more web free of her dress, then said: ‘If
you can hold on to my shoulders, I think I can pull the rest of
you free.’
Awkwardly she clasped her arm about him as he suggested.
‘Do you often manage to induce girls to embrace you so soon
after you’ve been introduced, Sergeant Yates?’
‘It’s a technique I’ve been working on,’ Mike responded in
kind.
Amelia came loose from the web with a brief tearing of
cloth.
‘Sorry,’ Mike said, carefully setting her down.
‘It’s all right, Sergeant, you couldn’t help it.’ She took a
couple of steps, winced, and looked down. Mike realized her
stockings were hanging in tattered ribbons about her ankles
and her bare feet were caked in dirt and streaks of blood.
‘I seem to have lost my shoes,’ she said, almost dreamily.
Mike caught her as she started to sway and gently laid her
back against the curve of the tunnel wall. He recognized the
signs. A reaction to her ordeal and rescue was beginning to set
in. He unslung his pack and took out his canteen.
‘Here, drink this.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said faintly. ‘I thought I was going to be
all right.’
‘You just rest and get your strength back for a minute while
I see to your feet.’ He took out the first aid pack, and started
cleaning and dressing her injuries. None seemed too serious,
but he knew the dangers of leaving even minor wounds
untreated in the tropics. ‘It looks as though you’ve been
running for some way. What happened?’
‘Well, we’re here to make a film. I was on my father’s
yacht – it’s aground in the lagoon – and was on deck when...’
Mike listened to Amelia’s story with mounting concern.
Giant crabs, snakes, ants, mysterious shriekers: what a place
for the Doctor and Miss Shaw to end up in! He had to find
them as soon as possible and get them back home safely. Then
perhaps they could discover just what had happened on
Salutua in some less perilous and better planned manner. First,
though, he had to get Amelia Grover and himself out of this
hole in the ground.
He finished by cutting strips off his plastic groundsheet and
binding them around Amelia’s feet. At least it should protect
his first aid work and allow her to walk far enough to get back
to her yacht. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the unfamiliar
material, or for that matter, any other anachronistic details of
his uniform or kit. Instinctively he realized that it would be far
simpler if she never knew where, or when, he was from. He
wondered if all time travellers felt this urge for secrecy.
His work complete, he helped her up, watching her
anxiously.
‘It’s all right,’ she assured him. ‘I’m feeling much better
now. I’m not usually the fainting type, you know. But I do
look a sight,’ she added, looking ruefully down at her plasticwrapped feet and her ragged skirt, through which her equally
dirty and torn slip could be seen. She tried to pull some of the
longer tears together. ‘This dress is hardly decent anymore.’
‘According to the best Paris fashion houses, the freshly
torn hem is the new jungle look this year,’ Mike assured her
sincerely.
‘Does the British Army train all its sergeants in reassuring
light banter for embarrassing situations?’
‘The first thing we learn,’ Mike confirmed, ‘after which
end of the gun is the dangerous one, of course.’
She laughed, then frowned in annoyance as she found her
hand was still sticking to the fabric of her dress. ‘It’s that glue
from the web,’ she exclaimed, pulling it free with difficulty.
‘However am I going to manage without sticking to
everything I touch?’
Mike indicated the floor of the tunnel with his torch beam.
‘May I suggest a roll in the dust to dry it up, pro tem?’
‘Also recommended by Paris, no doubt,’ said Amelia,
kneeling down and smearing the powdery dirt over her, then
lying on her back and wriggling in it as decorously as
possible.
Mike turned his torch around to examine the walls of the
pit. ‘And then we’ll see about getting out of here.’ He flashed
the torch in the opposite direction to the web. ‘You know, this
place looks more like a tunnel. I wonder if...What the –’
He swung his gun up to the ready. Amelia scrambled to her
feet at his exclamation and gasped in horror. A huge form was
looming out of the blackness.
The telephone in the laboratory rang just as they were making
another rotation of the time bridge portal in an attempt to
attract Mike Yates’s attention, so far without success.
The receiver was passed to the Brigadier, who listened for
a while with a curious expression on his face, then said curtly:
‘By all means send it over. I’ll put my specialist on to it as
soon as I can, but he’s rather, er...tied up in another
investigation at present. Goodbye.’
Benton put down his searchlight. ‘Still no sign of him.’ He
raised a polite eyebrow. ‘Something up, sir?’
‘Probably nothing, Benton. That was put through from
UNIT, New York. Bit of a UFO panic over West Coast
America. Except these seem to be acting like frightened
ghosts. There one minute, gone the next. They’ll relay some
film of them when it’s available.’
‘Just the sort of mystery the Doc and Miss Shaw would
like, sir,’ Benton observed.
‘Exactly what New York thought, Benton,’ agreed the
Brigadier, looking round the laboratory and thinking of his
comfortable bed at home. ‘Scientists! Where are they when
you need them?’
‘So why did a beautiful woman like yourself decide to become
a scientist?’ Michael Montgomery asked Liz in a low voice,
while peering alertly into the darkness as they tramped on
through the forest.
Liz sighed. In the reflected light of the sailors’ lanterns
about them, she could see a look in the actor’s eye that she
was all too familiar with.
‘To search for an answer to the great mystery of the
universe, of course,’ she replied smoothly.
‘Oh, and what’s that?’
‘Why men keep asking me that same silly question and
always seem surprised at the answer!’
‘Ah...and what’s that?’
‘Because I like doing it, of course.’
Perhaps she was being unfair to him. It was a terribly dated
chat-up line, but possibly it was still fresh in 1934.
The rescue party continued with their search through the
forest. Every few minutes they paused to fire three shots at
regular intervals and listen for any response from Amelia
Grover. They moved forward with understandable caution,
having lost six men to the crabs and bats and with several
others who had sustained minor wounds, which Liz had
treated as best she could from the first aid box. But there was
no treatment for Marshal Grover’s mounting despair over his
daughter, and she could see the fear growing heavier with
every step. Even Montgomery seemed aware of it, and offered
the only form of solace he could, which was another swig
from his hip flask, bolstering his own spirits in a similar
manner.
They had been searching for an hour before Liz realized,
with a mild shock, that she had actually seen a few of
Montgomery’s films. The memory of a slightly grainy black
and white image and a rather flat and crackly soundtrack was
so different from seeing the man in the flesh that it had taken
some time for the connection to form. She was actually
marching through the jungle with one of the original stars of
the silver screen. Pity he had turned out to be a mildly
lecherous drunk. Oh well, another illusion shattered.
Then the Doctor, who was in the lead beside Grover, called
them to a halt.
‘Hallo, what’s this?’
Liz moved up beside him as torches were shone down on
the ground before them.
A track had been made through the forest across their own
path, but it was not that of an animal. Two parallel sets of
tread-like indentations, about six feet apart, ran between the
huge trees, occasionally flattening small shrubs and bushes.
‘It looks like a small tank,’ Liz exclaimed, squatting down
to test the depth of the impressions. ‘Heavy for its size, too,
judging by the compression.’
‘About ten tons, I estimate,’ said the Doctor. ‘And quite
fresh. Certainly made within the last few hours.’ He turned to
Grover. ‘This is not from any of your equipment, I trust?’
‘No, we’ve got nothing with us that would make tracks like
that. What is it?’
Liz and the Doctor exchanged a meaningful glance.
‘Well it suggests,’ the Doctor said carefully, ‘that there
may be somebody, or something, else on the island besides
ourselves.’
Grover gaped at them in renewed alarm. ‘What, Doctor? Is
it dangerous? You must tell me if it has any bearing on finding
Amelia.’
‘I really don’t know yet, my dear fellow. But I recommend
we proceed carefully.’ He looked thoughtfully up and down
the line of the tracks. ‘This trail seems to run for some way.
Whatever it was came up from the direction of the beach but
began to circle round, perhaps returning there again. It might
be useful to find what the purpose of their excursion was.’
‘You can follow them if you like, Doctor,’ said Grover.
‘I’m not about to abandon the search for Amelia.’
‘But it is possible that she has also come across these tracks
by now. Being an easy path she might have followed them and
already be back at your yacht waiting for you. Look, quite
frankly, you and your men seem utterly exhausted. Why not
return to base, get some fresh men and start again if
necessary? It will soon be dawn now anyway. You might be
able to pick up your daughter’s trail better in daylight.’
Although his instinct clearly told him to push on
regardless, Liz could see Grover recognized the sense of the
Doctor’s suggestion.
‘You may be right, Doctor. Ferraro, let’s head back to the
ship.’
Coffee had just been handed round to the men in the
laboratory, when Benton entered. Osgood could see from the
expression on his face that he was the bearer of bad news.
‘You’d better see this yourself, sir,’ Osgood heard him say
tersely, as he handed the Brigadier a slip of telex paper. The
Brigadier’s face became stoney as he read the document.
‘You’d better check with Canberra that these details are
correct, Benton.’
‘I took the liberty of doing that already, sir. They’ve been
confirmed.’
Osgood couldn’t help asking: ‘Bad news, sir?’
Stiffly, the Brigadier glanced at his watch. ‘Assuming the
same time of day at the other end, Osgood, we must recover
the Doctor, Miss Shaw and Sergeant Yates within twenty
hours at the outside. If we don’t, they’ll all be dead!’
Nine
N
ancy had gone to her cabin and lain on the bed. She
simply couldn’t face anybody at the moment. She was
beginning to believe everything was her fault, and wanted to
hide her face in case somebody read the truth on it.
They had heard the shooting and explosions not long after
the search party had disappeared into the jungle, and were not
sure what to make of it. Perhaps the crabs had been
annihilated. But what about the screamers? Then the remains
of the crab army had returned to the lagoon and, presumably,
back out to sea. They had waited expectantly, but there was no
sign of the rescuers. Captain Pascoe had decided that they
could do nothing until morning. Only a skeleton crew,
together with some of the Chinese stewards, had been left to
guard the ship as it was. She had seen Chow, their cook,
pacing the deck holding a gleaming meat cleaver.
‘Don’t you worry, lady,’ he had assured her. ‘Any crab
come back here, he become crab soup!’
As the time passed, de Veer had seemed to lose interest in
taunting her, and Sternberg had gone to analyse the severed
crab claw left from the first attack. She had felt suddenly
lonely, and had even begun to miss having Montgomery
around to trade insults with. So she had gone to her cabin. She
hadn’t expected to sleep, but she was more tired than she had
realized.
The dreams were terrible: the loss of everything she had,
over and over again – her recurring nightmare. But now a new
element had been added: guilt. Guilt over Amelia.
She had paused for that fraction of a second before
reaching out to help her. She tried to pretend it would not have
made any difference, but in her heart she knew she could have
pulled her back on deck again. But it wasn’t her fault! She
simply had no altruistic instincts. She had to make herself
react in such circumstances, almost taking a pride in her hard,
pragmatic self-centredness. It had always served her so well –
up till now.
But now it looked like it might have led to tragedy.
Because of a second’s hesitation, Grover might have got
himself killed going after Amelia. To her surprise she realized
that she would actually miss him.
She might even miss Amelia.
Sorry, Amelia – damn you!
‘What an awful statue,’ Amelia Grover said with some
feeling, staring at the huge shape that almost filled the tunnel.
Mike agreed with her. He also resented whoever had built
it having placed it right where it could give them the
maximum shock.
The figure was a good eighteen feet high, and looked like a
rather crudely fashioned model of a man. Its upraised arms,
which had given the form such a menacing aspect at first
sight, were lifted in the direction of the hole in the roof, as
though in worship. Its hands, however, were poorly modelled,
and seemed to have six fingers. In fact the whole figure was
oddly proportioned, almost abstract in style, with a humped
back and overlarge, flattened feet. Stick-like ribs ran up the
outside of its legs, as though the builders needed to add extra
bracing to keep it upright. The surface of the statue was
covered in a film of dirt and dust, suggesting it had been there
for many years. Underneath the dust, the statue was uniformly
dark in colour. Mike felt the texture of one tree-trunk-thick
leg. It did not feel like stone. Though it was cold, there was a
slight suggestion of pliability. Perhaps the statue wasn’t solid
after all, but formed from a skin of mud or clay, reinforced by
dried grass fibres for binding, laid over an inner framework.
Mike stood back and shone his torch up at the statue’s head
again. This was a fairly smooth dome, with a few surreal
bulges on it in odd places. A circle of fine mesh, possibly
gauze, partially covered what was, for want of a better word,
the statue’s face. A severe down-turned slash represented the
mouth, while two widespread ‘V’ shaped slits where the
cheekbones should have been were presumably intended for
nostrils. But the entire countenance was dominated by a single
inset ruby-red eye almost the size of a football. When he
moved his torch, it brought forth odd sparkles from within its
depths. He couldn’t believe it was actually a ruby, and
guessed it was some type of volcanic glass.
Amelia Grover shuddered. ‘I’m glad I didn’t realize that
thing was here all the time I was caught on the web,’ she said
with feeling.
He grinned in sympathy. ‘He’d win no prizes in a beauty
show, that’s for sure. I remember legends and fairy tales about
giant statues with gems for eyes, but I never thought I’d ever
see one. Must tell the Doctor about old cyclops here –
assuming I can find him, that is.’
‘The Doctor?’
‘Our scientific advisor. He and Miss Shaw, another
scientist, are the ones I was looking for earlier.’
‘And you must continue searching as soon as possible,
Sergeant,’ Amelia said briskly. ‘And I must get back to my
father. He’s sure to be terribly worried about me.’ She shook
her head as though to clear her thoughts. ‘I think I heard some
more fighting just before I fell down here, but that terrible
shrieking made it so hard to concentrate –’ Her face suddenly
paled. ‘Oh no, suppose it was a party out looking for me?
What if my father...I must find him!’
Mike spoke with all the authority he could muster. ‘Listen
you don’t undertake a search just like that. For a start, you
can’t walk far without proper shoes. The first priority is to get
you back to your yacht and find out what’s actually happened,
then take it from there. Agreed?’
She took a deep breath. ‘You’re quite right, Sergeant.
Thank you for being so sensible.’
‘Anytime,’ he said, with a slight smile. ‘Now, we both
want to get out of here.’ He shone his torch up to the hole in
the roof. ‘Unfortunately that might not be quite so simple.
None of those hanging vines and roots look strong enough to
climb, even if I could reach them.’
‘You said you had a rope.’
‘Yes, but even with some sort of grapple, the edge of the
hole’s not solid enough to hold it firm.’
Her voice was admirably steady now. ‘Are we trapped
then?’
‘Not at all,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I read about these places
somewhere. If this is an old lava tube, it might go on all the
way to the sea. Perhaps it’ll be simpler to walk down the
tunnel. Might even be safer than the forest in the dark. It
obviously runs close to the surface, so there may be other roof
falls. We might find a lower spot where we can climb out. If
not, we’ll just have to come back here and try something else.’
She managed a smile. ‘You make it seem so easy.’
‘My motto: always try the easy way first.’
‘Well, let’s get started then.’ Mike thought she suddenly
looked resolute but nervous.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, patting his gun. ‘I’m sure I can take
care of any other spiders.’
‘No, it’s not that...it’s just that I’m slightly claustrophobic.’
She made a little gesture towards her missing arm. ‘I was
trapped in our auto for nearly two hours when this happened,
being squeezed against all the crushed metal...I’ve never liked
close spaces since then.’
‘I’m sorry. We’ll try to climb out here then.’
‘And have you fall and break your neck on my account?
Certainly not, Sergeant Yates. We’ll try the tunnel...only, you
won’t mind if I talk as we go, will you?’
He smiled. ‘Not at all.’
The view through the imaging coil from a thousand feet above
the summit of the volcano as dawn started to grey the limb of
the ocean was probably quite spectacular. The Brigadier was
not in sightseeing mood, however. All he wanted to see was
some sign of his missing personnel. They thought they saw
lights on the shore of the lagoon, but every time he tried to
move the portal towards it an uncontrollable rocking and
pitching motion set in, causing him hastily to reset for fear of
losing the location altogether. Liz’s note on her clipboard
stared back at him: ‘Spatial steering controls need adjustment.
Additional power may help.’
He had never really trusted complicated machinery.
‘Sir,’ said Benton. ‘If we’ve got enough power now, I
could go through after them.’
‘We have just got the power, Benton, but no. Your offer is
noted, but I can’t risk losing my entire staff one by one at this
moment. There has to be some better way we can get a
message to them.’
If only he could think of it.
Right, Lethbridge-Stewart, face the facts.
You can only reliably make this thing go up and down.
You haven’t the power reserve to engage in a full-scale search
through all those trees, even if the bridge could be steered
properly, until the replacement accumulators arrive. And by
then there wouldn’t be the time. But they could be anywhere
down there by now. How to cover the ground? How to
cover...?
‘Benton!’
‘Sir?’
‘How many photocopiers in the building?’
‘Uh...two, I think, sir.’
‘Get them warmed up, and find as much paper as you can.’
Amelia did talk as they traversed the dark tunnel, occasionally
crushing underfoot the remains of oversized insect carapaces,
which must have been the giant spider’s main foodstuff. But
she kept her voice sensibly low, and fell silent the instant
Mike stopped to listen for any other signs of life or to check
the way ahead, so he had no cause to complain. Besides, it
was cheering to hear a human voice in such circumstances,
and Amelia spoke intelligently and at times wittily. She
seemed to be without bitterness for what had happened to her,
generously ascribing her fortitude to her religious faith. But
she was not oppressively pious either, for which Mike was
grateful. He replied to her polite enquiries about himself with
snippets about his family and army career, trying to avoid any
details that would suggest he was not of this time. At first she
spoke of general topics, but they gradually became more
personal.
‘The accident wasn’t Pa’s fault at all, but I know he still
blames himself. It was an out-of-town road at night, you see,
and he had to leave us both in the car to go for help. And
while he was gone...my mother died...’ There was an awkward
silence, but before Mike could respond, Amelia said quickly:
‘I’m not trying to win more sympathy, you know. I’ve had
plenty of that. Nor am I complaining about what happened.
What’s done is done. But I just want people to understand
about Pa, and what he went through. I think it was worse for
him, in a way. My injury is obvious, his is buried deep down.
He had to bring me up by himself, without a wife’s help.’ She
smiled ruefully. ‘Later there were boy problems, of course.’
‘Problems?’
‘I stepped out with a few apparently perfectly respectable
young men, who didn’t seem to mind about my arm. But after
a while I began to wonder if they cared more about my
inheritance. By that time my father had become quite wealthy,
you see.’
‘Don’t you think some of them really were interested in
you for yourself, and not the money?’
‘Maybe, but I couldn’t be sure. Selfishly, perhaps, I made it
clear to them that they were two separate matters, which
tended to sour things rather quickly. I also wondered if some
boys were dating me out of sympathy, without feeling, or even
for a sort of dare with their friends. Everything became
terribly confusing. In self-defence I had to learn to read
people’s true intent. And then of course, not liking what I
often found, I had to learn to be more forgiving of human
frailties. When Pa met Nancy...But that’s not for me to speak
of.’
‘Well, I think any man who didn’t persist for the sake of
your company didn’t deserve it in the first place, Miss
Grover.’
She seemed genuinely surprised at his remark. ‘Why, thank
you, Sergeant. You are very kind. You are also very easy to
talk to. I don’t usually talk to strangers quite so freely, you
know. It must be the surroundings.’
He smiled back, though it was probably lost in the gloom.
‘Yes, it’s probably that. But thank you anyway...’ He paused.
‘Hallo, what’s this?’
Ahead the tunnel was blocked by a pile of rock reaching up
to the roof.
‘Oh, well,’ said Amelia. ‘That seems to be it.’
‘No, can you feel a slight breeze?’
‘Why...yes, I can.’
‘Then the air must be getting through somewhere. I wonder
if we can see any light? Must be dawn soon. I’ll turn off the
torch for a moment.’
He felt Amelia’s hand close on his in the darkness. ‘It
won’t be for long,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Just until our eyes
adjust.’
They waited for a minute. A faint greyness became visible,
washing down from a narrow crack between the rubble and
the tunnel roof. Mike cautiously clambered up the slope a few
feet. Vines and bleached white root tendrils snaked down from
above. Beyond them he could just make out a tangle of leaves.
‘This looks like it,’ he called down. ‘Bit of a tight squeeze,
but we should be able to get through.’
‘Anything to get out of this place. Lead on!’
Within two minutes they were pushing their way out of a
crevice half concealed under a thickly spreading bush that
almost filled the hollow made by the tunnel roof collapse.
From the outside nobody would have guessed that such an
entrance existed. They found themselves blinking in the pale
pre-dawn grey of morning, back amid the soaring trees of the
forest. A refreshingly cool breeze was stirring the foliage
briefly, before the heat and humidity of full morning set in.
Mike checked his compass against the bearing he had taken
last night from the summit of the volcano. ‘Right, that way
will take us most directly to the beach, I think. Then we head
along it until we get to your yacht.’
‘The sooner the better,’ confirmed Amelia. ‘I’m longing
for a hot bath and a change of clothes.’
They set off through the trees, Mike with his gun carried at
the ready, alert should any more of Salutua’s giant fauna
appear, but hoping they would not. They had only been
walking for a couple of minutes, however, when he paused.
‘Can you hear that? A sort of steady clicking, rustling
sound?’
‘Yes. Where’s it coming from?’
‘Right up ahead, I’m afraid. Keep behind me and try not to
make any noise.’
He edged silently forward, Amelia shadowing him. The
ground rose where one of the great trees threw out its massive
buttress roots. The strange sound came from the other side: a
loud, incessant patter, like falling rain. He crawled to the top
and peered over. Beyond was an incredible sight. After a
moment he waved Amelia up to join him, but signalling
caution.
They looked down on one of the tiny valleys that
meandered between the great trees, which might form a
stream when the weather was wet. But now its dry bed made a
road for a column of the giant ants Amelia had spoken of
earlier. There were hundreds of workers, busily scurrying
along with their forage, which was mainly leaves as large as
parasols, odd fragments of shell with pink meat inside, and
also dark furred and leathery flesh which he could not
identify. Every so often they were passed by their unladen
fellows, presumably returning from their nest for more. Every
ten yards or so along the trail stood a warrior ant,
distinguished by its massive mandibles, acting as sentinel in
case anything disturbed the column. Mike recalled a nature
film he had seen once where a miniature camera had shown
just such a spectacle from the ant’s eye level. No need for
special cameras here, he thought.
Then Amelia gasped and turned her head aside.
One ant was carrying the bloody but unmistakeable
remains of a human forearm.
Mike supported Amelia as she staggered back down the
slope, and held her as she was violently sick. He didn’t blame
her. He felt a little queasy himself. Were the ants scavenging
from the fight he heard that night? And if the Doctor and Liz
Shaw had been involved in it, where were they now?
When she was done, he gave her another drink from his
canteen. Pale faced but determined, she faced him.
‘I must get back to the Constitution right away...I must
know what’s happened...if Pa’s okay...’ He saw the depth of
love in her eyes.
‘I know. But we’ve got to cross the ant trail first, without
starting a fight with those sentries. They look like vicious
brutes. Let’s see if there’s an easier way. Come on.’
They scouted along the line of the ant trail for a few
hundred yards until they came upon a fallen tree bridging over
the column. ‘Hold my hand,’ he said. They edged across
gingerly. Amelia’s nails dug into his flesh. A warrior ant was
standing alertly on a boulder only a few yards off. It turned its
head to follow their progress, antennae twitching, but made no
move towards them. Mike’s finger never left the trigger all the
time they were under its gaze. He was sure he could deal with
any single ant, but the thought an army of them relentlessly
pursuing him through the forest made him shiver.
Then they were over and hurrying on again. Another
quarter of a mile and Mike heard the sound of waves breaking
on a beach.
‘Nearly there,’ he said cheerfully. Amelia managed a tight
smile. The giant trees were thinning and becoming less
massive, but there was more undergrowth and the occasional
stand of breadfruit trees. Then they saw the fringe of the
coconut palms. Through them the sky shone vividly with the
first true light of dawn.
Amelia stopped suddenly. ‘What was that?’
There was a soft mechanical whirring noise coming from
their left and a little behind them. Every so often there was a
swish and crack, as though foliage had been brushed aside. It
was getting louder.
‘I don’t know. Let’s get out of sight just in case.’
They crouched down behind a tree breathlessly. Mike
peered round the trunk, gun at the ready.
A bush twenty yards away was flattened to the ground and
an odd vehicle rolled into view. It had an undercarriage and
caterpillar tracks like those of a small tank, but instead of a
conventional body or gun turret, there were two low
rectangular box-like units fore and aft with a dull grey globe,
seven or eight feet across, set between them. Mounted on top
of this was a small, twin-lensed camera turret that panned left
and right across the vehicle’s path.
Mike pulled his head back into cover again and put his
finger to his lips as a warning to Amelia. He was desperately
curious about the tank, but he knew he couldn’t afford to get
involved in another mystery at this moment. He hoped it
would simply go on past and let them continue down to the
beach.
Unfortunately it didn’t.
It stopped a few yards away on the other side of the tree.
There was a series of whirs and clicks. He snatched another
glance around the tree. A mechanical arm had unfolded from
the unit on the front of the tank, on the end of which was a
small scoop. It began to dig up a sample of earth. Just go,
please, Mike thought. The scoop snapped shut and withdrew,
depositing the sample in some receptacle within the main unit.
The tank started moving again and Mike jerked his head back.
Good. But the tank simply drove right up to the other side of
the tree and stopped again. There were more whirs and clicks,
then a sudden harsh whine. The thing was drilling a sample
out of the tree itself.
Amelia looked at him anxiously. He simply shrugged.
They had to wait.
The sound of the drill got louder. Suddenly the furiously
rotating hollow tip burst through the bark inches from
Amelia’s head. With a small cry of surprise she flinched
away, overbalanced, and fell clear of the tree and into the
tank’s field of vision.
The drill stopped even as Mike dived from the cover of the
tree, yanked Amelia to her feet and drew her back a few
paces.
‘We’re going to back away from it slowly and steadily,’ he
murmured. ‘Don’t run unless I tell you.’
The drill whirred and withdrew, folding away even as the
tank manoeuvred around the tree and started forward, camera
lenses swivelling about to track them. A different mechanical
arm emerged from the unit with an ominous looking tube
mounted on its end.
Mike pointed his machine-gun at the advancing vehicle.
‘You can see I’m armed,’ he shouted, ‘keep back!’ The tank
kept on coming. He fired a short burst across the tank’s path,
kicking up spouts of earth. The tank did not slow down.
‘Run!’ he shouted to Amelia as he fired at the camera
mount, trying to smash the lenses. Bullets rebounded and
whined away into the trees, but seemed to do no damage. The
tube on the end of the mechanical arm puffed out a cloud of
vapour. He dived to one side even as something snaked past
his head. Amelia screamed. He twisted about to see her
writhing on the ground with a spray of whiplike tendrils
wrapped about her, linked to the machine by a thicker cable.
Slowly the tank began to reel her in. Mike drew his knife and
hacked at the line, but it was some sort of thin tough wire, and
would not cut. Amelia struggled, but could not break free of
the enveloping tendrils. Inexorably the machine dragged her
closer.
In desperation, Mike unclipped a grenade from his belt and
pulled the pin. He tossed the grenade on to the unit carrying
the mechanical arms, and threw himself protectively across
Amelia.
The grenade detonated with a flash and a bang. Metal
ground against metal and the cable attached to Amelia
dropped loose.
Then came a second and quite unexpected explosion.
Ten
‘S
o tell me, Professor Sternberg,’ said the Doctor, sipping
his iced fruit juice, ‘how on earth did you find Salutua
in the first place? After all, it is virtually invisible from
outside, isn’t it?’
Liz allowed herself to relax with her own drink in the
comfort of the Constitution’s saloon. She felt she deserved a
bit of luxury after tramping through the forest for most of the
night.
The search party had been heralded with cheers from the
yacht when they first appeared. But the initial jubilation was
soon dispelled by the news of their losses and their failure to
find Amelia. Liz and the Doctor were introduced and
accepted, without apparent suspicion, as members of a British
expedition to the island. It was sometimes useful, Liz decided,
to come from a nation noted for its eccentrics. The fact that
the Doctor, for all his mannerisms, was not even human, let
alone English, merely added an extra quirk to the situation.
Grover was greeted tearfully by an attractive young
woman, introduced as his wife Nancy, who seemed
desperately relieved that he had returned safely. An older
woman, his secretary apparently, welcomed him with a less
ostentatious display but equally obvious relief. Grover went
into conference with Pascoe about a second sortie, saying he
would talk to Liz and the Doctor again shortly, and left
Montgomery to look after them. The actor had naturally led
them straight to the saloon and the bar therein, where he began
to produce drinks so efficiently that Liz almost forgave him
for his earlier attentions.
Under their influence and in the morning light, the scenes
she had witnessed only hours before already seemed like a
dream. Her present surroundings were far more to her taste,
and she felt that she could quite grow to like the
accommodation offered onboard a millionaire’s yacht. If it
were not for the slope of the deck, you would hardly know
anything was wrong. Except, of course, there was no
mistaking the atmosphere of apprehension and despondency
that had settled once more over the ship. Only Grover seemed
to resist it. He believed passionately that Amelia was still in
hiding somewhere, or had got lost after escaping from the
giant crabs. Hope was all that was sustaining him now, Liz
thought.
She snapped out of her reverie and tried to take in
Sternberg’s response to the Doctor’s question. Of them all,
Sternberg had shown most interest in their unexpected
appearance on the island, and she could guess why. Still, he
was polite and forthcoming enough, though a little distracted.
‘Ach, Salutua. Yes, a place of legend indeed. I have
worked for many years in the Pacific – mission hospitals and
the like, you understand – and had heard stories of an island
which had disappeared some fifty years before. According to
legend, a fire giant from the volcano had driven the
indigenous population away. When they attempted to return
they found the island had vanished. Naturally, I took little
notice – there are so many such tales. Doubtless the volcano
had actually destroyed the island, and the more fanciful story
grew up afterwards. Or so I thought.
‘Then, one day, not three months past, on an island perhaps
a hundred and fifty miles from here, I was called upon in my
medical capacity to treat a man the natives had found drifting
in a small boat. He was a European, and suffering from
exposure and the effects of injuries resembling animal bites
and claw marks of a most unusual kind. Sadly he was beyond
my help and he died shortly after without recovering
consciousness. In searching his possessions for some
indication of his family, if he had any, I came across a diary
he had kept of his journey, together with precise navigational
records. He too had listened to the legends, but he had
followed them until he had penetrated the veil and found
Salutua. Little details of his time on the island itself were
recorded, as it seems he suffered his injuries quite soon after
landing, but he had observations enough, together with
samples of plants and insects, now sadly decomposing, to
convince me of the remarkable nature of life here.
‘Clearly there should be a proper expedition to the island,
but I was in no position to finance such an undertaking: my
work has been for charitable causes, you understand? But the
name of Marshal Grover is well known in the region through
his shipping company and other interests – now even the
moving pictures. So I think: what a film might be made here!
And while this was done, I might make a scientific
investigation of the island. So I made my way to San
Francisco, where head office of shipping line is, and I persist
until Mr Grover sees me, and I convince him. His lovely
young wife, she will star in film, and it will make a holiday
for his daughter...’ Sternberg hung his head. ‘But then the life
here was far more vigorous and plentiful than I had expected.
And more dangerous, despite our precautions. Now the deaths
of brave men and Grover’s daughter missing...It was not
meant to be like this, believe me.’
He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. His
last words had been spoken with unusual passion, causing Liz
to frown.
‘Steady on, old chap,’ said the Doctor. ‘Nobody’s blaming
you for this.’
‘No, but I am responsible. It should have been a wonderful
discovery, my discovery.’ He looked at them in sudden
animosity and his tone hardened. ‘You understand? The
reports in the scientific journals would have been under my
name. But now you are here. I must know, when did you
land? Are you working under French authority? Will you
claim precedence for your expedition?’
‘Our department is supported by France, among others,’
Liz said carefully, ‘but we’re not going to make any prior
claim. It’s clearly your discovery.’
‘But we would like to make our own study, if you don’t
mind,’ the Doctor added. ‘Obviously there’s more work here
than one man can cope with, wouldn’t you agree?’
Sternberg looked relieved. ‘Thank you. Yes, I am sure we
can come to some agreement. As long as I may have the first
choice over specimens and such items,’ he added quickly.
‘Of course,’ said the Doctor generously.
‘But we are forgetting the present circumstances. Miss
Amelia is still missing. She must be found or else...’ He
hesitated, then finished awkwardly: ‘...it will be a tragedy.
Grover may not wish to continue to support my researches,
you see?’
‘Quite,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘That would be a tragedy.’
Sternberg stood up abruptly. ‘But now I must be about my
work. There are specimens still to examine. I would join the
search, believe me, but I would be more a liability to the rest.’
He laughed nervously. ‘Most likely I would shoot myself by
accident.’
‘And that would never do,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘We quite
understand.’
‘Thank you. Well, goodbye for the present, Doctor,
Fraüline Shaw.’ He walked quickly out of the room.
Liz eyed Montgomery – who had fallen asleep in a chair on
the other side of the room – for a moment, then said softly:
‘He wasn’t telling us the whole truth, was he?’
‘No, he wasn’t. But he was sincere about most of it, I
think.’
‘Mmm...possibly. I thought you were very generous with
your promises about the research.’
‘So were you about the precedence of his discovery.’
‘Well, I felt sorry for the man...Besides...’
‘Exactly. Let’s face it, Liz, we know nothing will ever
come of it, don’t we? There is no record of any such discovery
in the nineteen thirties. Something must prevent the facts
about this place from ever becoming public.’ He rubbed his
chin, a scowl creasing his face. ‘We may even have to do it
ourselves.’
Liz felt unhappy at the idea. It didn’t feel right to consider
suppressing knowledge. ‘Might we really?’
‘It’s possible, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. Let’s hope
the decision is taken out of our hands –’
There was a shout from the deck: ‘I can hear shooting!’
Almost immediately came the distant echo of an explosion.
They sprang to the saloon windows. From over the trees
about half a mile down the shore in the next bay along, a puff
of smoke was rising into the lightening sky. They made a dash
for the deck, where a reconnaissance party was already
forming. She saw Dodgeson and de Veer awkwardly but
resolutely carrying rifles. Grover turned to the Doctor.
‘Could that be to do with any of your people? We can
account for all of our men.’
‘It’s...er, possible somebody has arrived early to see how
we’re doing,’ he admitted, ‘but I really couldn’t say for sure
from here. We’ll just have to go and take a look, won’t we?
Come on Liz.’
‘Miss Shaw should stay onboard,’ Grover said.
‘Thanks, but I’ll come anyway.’
‘It might be dangerous.’
‘What isn’t around here?’
They clattered down the accommodation ladder and on to
the beach, golden in the first rays of the morning sun. There
was a promontory of sand and a stand of palm trees at the end
of the scalloped bay in which the Constitution lay, and
towards this they made their way at a brisk pace. Liz saw
Grover’s stout figure out in the lead. She hoped he was not
going to be disappointed by whatever they found. They
reached the palms and plunged through them. On the other
side Grover stopped dead. Two figures were staggering out of
the trees halfway down the sweep of the beach: a man and a
woman.
‘Amy?’ Grover called out hesitantly, then louder: ‘Amy!’
The woman looked around dazedly, then waved. Grover
began to run. The Doctor jogged along at Liz’s side.
‘Do you see who’s with her?’
‘It’s...Sergeant Yates, isn’t it?’
‘Exactly. Now what’s he doing here?’
‘Looking for us, I would think. And it looks as if he’s been
having quite a time of it.’
‘Yes, it does. Come on.’
By the time they reached Mike, Grover was hugging his
daughter tightly to him. Both were crying in unashamed relief.
Mike, standing to one side and looking dazed and slightly
dishevelled, greeted their appearance with an interesting
mixture of relief and reproach.
‘Ah, there you are Doctor, Miss Shaw. The Brigadier was
getting anxious about you.’
‘I thought he might,’ remarked Liz dryly. ‘We weren’t
expecting the...uh, “transportation difficulties” to be sorted out
so soon, or else we would have been waiting for you,
wouldn’t we, Doctor?’
‘Naturally.’ The Doctor beamed disarmingly at Mike.
‘Still, I’m glad to see you found us all right in the end. And
Miss Grover too. Well done.’
‘Thank you,’ Mike replied tersely, ‘it was nothing, really.
Just twenty foot deep pits, giant spiders, an ugly oversized and
misplaced statue –’
‘Misplaced in what way?’ the Doctor cut in.
Mike sighed. ‘It was in the pit, it was about eighteen feet
tall, had one red eye and looked like nothing on Earth. Now
where was I? Yes: scavenging ants and, to cap it all, some
lunatic in a tank tried to grab us.’
‘A tank?’ exclaimed Liz. ‘We saw tank tracks earlier.’
‘Well the thing itself is about a hundred yards back in the
trees there. What’s left of it, anyway.’
‘Was that the explosion we heard?’ the Doctor asked,
suddenly looking alert. ‘You didn’t damage it, did you?’
‘It was him or us,’ Mike protested. ‘I tossed it a grenade.
Only trying to disable this device on the front that had got
hold of Miss Grover. But the whole thing went up. Funny sort
of bang it was. Sprayed a lot of water about and knocked us
for six. My ears are still ringing.’
‘Let’s go and have a look at the remains, Liz,’ the Doctor
suggested. But he was interrupted.
‘Just a minute, Doctor.’ Grover spoke solemnly, voice still
husky. He was standing with one arm wrapped about Amelia.
The other he thrust out towards Mike to shake. ‘Amy’s been
telling me what this young man did for her, and I’ve got
something to say.’ He shook Mike’s hand firmly. ‘Sergeant,
you don’t know what you’ve done, bringing my girl back to
me like this...I can’t put it into words, so I just have to
say...thank you. I will always be in your debt.’
‘You’re very kind, sir, but really, it was a privilege. You
have a most charming and courageous daughter.’
Grover beamed down at Amelia. ‘Don’t I know it. And
now she’s going back to the ship to get cleaned up. I’m not
going to risk anything else on this island taking her away
again.’
Ferraro and three sailors stood ready, and Amelia, with a
wave to Mike and her father, was escorted away along the
beach to the yacht.
Grover turned back to the rest. Liz thought he looked ten
years younger than he had an hour before.
‘Now my mind’s settled, I’m curious about this tank thing,
Doctor, especially as it seems to have taken an uncommon
liking to my daughter. Shall we take a look at it?’
Mike led the way, with the Doctor, Liz, Grover, de Veer
and Dodgeson following on behind.
The remains were scattered about the undercarriage of the
tank, which was still almost intact, but the units fore and aft
were almost totally destroyed, and all that could be seen of the
sphere were a few widespread shards. Liz swallowed and
steeled herself. She noticed a few strips of pale jelly-like flesh
amid the wreckage, and a peculiar musty, damp odour hung in
the air. As she and the Doctor examined fragments, Mike
described the vehicle and its actions. Dodgeson, who had been
frowning, suddenly spoke up.
‘Say, this thing sounds like the globe I saw as we came in
through the reef, just before that blast tore out a hole in our
hull.’
‘Really,’ said the Doctor, ‘most interesting.’ He was
holding a piece of the globe. It was dull grey, and almost four
inches thick.
‘Armour plate?’ asked Mike, with professional interest.
‘Not exactly. A kind of ceramic. Immensely strong, but
rather brittle. I’m afraid your grenade cracked it, and the
internal pressure did the rest. It blew apart, and its driver with
it.’
‘But who would be travelling around inside such a
contraption?’ Grover asked.
‘Well not a human, if that’s what you mean. There’s
enough of the occupant left to indicate that.’
Grover gave him an incredulous look. ‘Not what?’
‘Some form of aquatic life, I should think, accustomed to
high pressure. Remember, it came from the direction of the
sea in the first place, and seemed to be heading back there
when Mike, uh, stopped it.’
‘You’re telling me this tank was driven by a fish!’
The Doctor smiled tolerantly. ‘That’s a very simplistic
description, but essentially correct.’
Grover shook his head. ‘Now I’ve heard everything!’
He seemed to feel the need to walk about for a minute, still
shaking his head and kicking at the pieces of the tank.
Dodgeson and de Veer were also giving them odd looks, Liz
noted. Mike took the opportunity to speak urgently in a low
voice.
‘Right, you’ve had your fun, Doctor, Miss Shaw. But the
Brigadier gave me strict orders to bring you back to the crater
as soon as possible, where we will wait until the time bridge is
powered up again –’
‘Oh, yes, how badly was it damaged?’ Liz interrupted
quickly. ‘You obviously managed to get it fixed earlier than I
thought.’
‘Something of a lash-up, apparently. Osgood saw to it. But
now I must insist –’
‘Osgood!’ Liz and the Doctor looked dismayed.
‘Does it matter?’ asked Mike. ‘Now if we can be getting
along –’
‘But we can’t just walk out now!’ exclaimed the Doctor.
‘We have a mystery to solve, you can see that.’
‘Maybe later, Doctor. But first you are both coming back
with me so the Brigadier can see you’re safe and sound.’
‘You go and reassure the Brigadier by all means, Sergeant.
Just give us a couple of hours here undisturbed,’ the Doctor
said artfully. ‘That can’t hurt, surely?’
‘What are you going to do if we disobey?’ Liz teased.
‘Take us back at the point of a gun?’
Mike fumed impotently.
Then de Veer said: ‘Hey, look at that – in the sky.’
They all looked up. A thin cloud of white specks was
drifting and fluttering out of the air all over the island. There
must have been hundreds of them, but at first Liz could not
judge their size until the first ones dropped among the trees.
Then she realized they were sheets of typing paper. One
fluttered down to earth nearby, and Mike ran across to retrieve
it. She saw his face set as he read it, and he brought it back to
them without a word.
The photocopied message was inscribed in bold felt-tip
letters:
ATTENTION: YATES, SHAW, DOCTOR:
TIME BRIDGE WILL BE OPERATIONAL FROM
APPROX 18.00 HRS. MAKE SMOKE SIGNAL IF NOT
ABLE TO RETURN TO CRATER AND WILL ATTEMPT
RENDEZVOUS. RECORDS SHOW VOLCANIC
ERUPTION AT YOUR COORDINATES ON 9 JUNE 1934
AT APPROX 22.00 HRS LOCAL TIME.
ISLAND TOTALLY DESTROYED!
LETHBRIDGE-STEWART.
Eleven
N
ancy was carefully combing out Amelia’s damp hair,
while Amelia, freshly bathed and robed, sat patiently
before her cabin dressing table. Every so often she caught a
curious glance from her in the mirror. It was not surprising.
Nancy had never done anything like this before and knew she
was not doing it well now, but she had insisted, telling Maisie,
Amelia’s maid, that she would take care of Amelia for a
while. She had read surprise in Maisie’s eyes, but the girl had
the sense to bob obediently and disappear. Nancy had to be
alone with Amelia, to get it over with as soon as possible. A
confession to expunge her guilt. And she’d never been very
good at that.
‘I’m...so glad you’re all right...’ she said awkwardly.
Damn, she was repeating herself, she must sound like an idiot.
‘Thank you,’ Amelia said simply.
Did Amelia recognize her guilt? Was she playing with her,
drawing out the moment. No, that was not her way. She’d just
be unbearably forgiving. Well, there was no turning back now.
‘Last night...when those crab things attacked the ship, and
you fell over the side...’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I’m sorry...really sorry I didn’t get to you in time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know! When you were hanging on to the rail...I
maybe could have made a grab for you a little faster, and, you
know, pulled you back. Then all the rest wouldn’t have
happened. I’m sorry, all right!’
‘What for?’ Amelia seemed genuinely surprised. ‘It all
seemed to happen so quickly for me. I only held on to the rail
for a second, then I fell into the water. I remember you
shouting to make for the pontoon, but I was on the wrong side
of the ship. And then the crabs were coming out of the water
so fast, I never had a chance to get back on board.’
Nancy froze, comb in mid-stroke.
Amelia didn’t realize she’d practically let her fall.
She’d confessed for nothing!
She felt dizzy and uncertain. Perhaps the guilt was all in
her mind? Or was Amelia just saying it to make her feel better
in her do-gooder way?
‘Is this on the level?’
‘Of course. But if you feel troubled, Nancy, I’m sure you
shouldn’t be. Even if you did hesitate for a moment, with all
those terrible creatures around, who could blame you? It
probably wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, and you
might have fallen in as well trying to pull me back. Please
don’t let it worry you.’
Nancy threw down the comb. ‘Damn it, don’t be so
reasonable! Get angry! Say you hate me! Let’s get it over with
here and now!’
Amelia turned serious eyes upon her. ‘I cannot be other
than I am in this matter, Nancy. We’ve covered this ground
before. I honestly do not hold you responsible for what
happened to me. It was no doubt intended somewhere that it
should be so, and all we can do is try our best at such times. If
you really believe you were guilty of some omission, then we
might talk of repentance, but I don’t think you want such
advice.’
‘You’re damn right I don’t!’
Nancy strode out of the cabin, slamming the door behind
her.
She felt sick with impotent anger. Why couldn’t Amelia
simply have got mad at her? That would have balanced things
up. But she could never touch Amelia, never get her under her
thumb, or make her spoil her spotless image. And now Amelia
had a lever on her. But hold on! Amelia would never use it,
that wasn’t her style – except maybe to save her father from
hurt. Yes, then she might. Nancy realized she’d have to be
even more careful about her discreet flirtations in future. If
Amelia ever found out she was two-timing Grover she’d let it
all out, and then she’d lose everything.
A part of her began to wish that Amelia had died in the
forest. Then nobody would ever have known. It would have
been so much simpler.
‘That’s the last of them, sir,’ said Benton, tossing a handful of
photocopied warnings through the portal and out into the air
over the island.
‘Good.’ The Brigadier reset the controls so that the portal
dropped back to the crater floor, then gratefully slid the power
lever back to five percent. He’d been running the levels up
and down in time with Benton throwing the next bundle of
paper so as to eke out their meagre reserves. A couple of
times, before they’d become synchronized, the papers had
simply fallen through the coil on to the floor the other side.
Once only half the bundle had gone through, while the rest
fluttered to the floor of the lab looking as though it had been
cut across with a guillotine. He shuddered to think what would
happen to a person in those circumstances. It made the
necessity of achieving full power before he dared let anyone
else through all the more apparent.
‘How are the levels, Osgood?’
‘Uh...Just enough to keep it ticking over, sir.’
‘Right, we’ll hold it there on low power, where we can
keep a watch on the volcano. Nothing else we can do now
until the replacement accumulators arrive. When are they
due?’
‘Er, about another five hours or so, sir. Wiring in won’t
take long, but they’ll still need charging.’
‘But will it be operational by eighteen hundred?’
‘Just about, sir.’
‘Good. Until then, you and your team had better get some
rest.’ He looked at the bright morning sun illuminating the tall
windows of the laboratory, and realized how tired he felt.
‘You’d better work out a roster, Benton. Brief some of the
other men on keeping a watch on this thing, then get some rest
yourself. We must be fresh for this evening.’
‘But they will get the message, won’t they, sir?’ Benton
asked anxiously. ‘They should just be standing by ready to be
picked up.’
‘I hope so, Benton. But we’ll be prepared just in case they
aren’t.’
Corporal Bell from the communications room entered.
‘The film from New York has just come over the satellite
relay, sir, and I’ve got the video copy ready. And reports of
some new incidents are coming in.’
‘Anything else from Canberra?’
‘Nothing more, sir.’
The Brigadier sighed. ‘Very well, I might as well see the
film. Not my idea of early morning viewing, though.’
Grover waved one of the message sheets in front of the
Doctor.
‘Just what is this, Doctor? What kind of stunt are you
trying to pull, here?’
They were all back in the Constitution’s saloon. Amelia
and Nancy were now sitting on the chesterfield on either side
of Grover, though Liz sensed some tension between them.
Sternberg had re-emerged on hearing of the shower of
warning messages and added his intent gaze to the rest. For
the first time Liz felt that the three of them were under less
than friendly scrutiny.
‘It means just what it says,’ the Doctor replied gravely.
‘This island is going to be destroyed at ten o’clock tonight by
the volcano.’
‘Well I know something of volcanos,’ Grover came back at
him. ‘There are plenty of them round the Pacific, and I’ve
seen a few blow their tops. And usually there are signs a few
hours before that the natives watch for: earth tremors, odd
noises, changes in the weather, gases venting faster or
sometimes shutting off entirely. And I don’t see any of that
here.’
‘Normally I’d agree with you, Mr Grover,’ said Liz
patiently. ‘But I’m sure our information is good. You must
believe the warning.’
‘That’s another thing, young lady. Where did this so-called
warning come from? It was like it was - dropped from a
balloon or plane or somesuch, but I didn’t see hide nor hair of
one. And while we’re on it, who in tarnation is this
“Lethbridge-Stewart”, and what is a “time bridge”?’
The Doctor looked at Liz and then Mike, who shrugged, as
much as to say: this is your field, you explain it.
‘It may be hard for you to accept, but we are all travellers
in time,’ the Doctor began. ‘From almost forty years in the
future, actually. We represent an international organization
called UNIT, commanded by a Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.
We travelled back here through time and space via a device
called a “time bridge” to carry out a scientific investigation of
the origin of an artifact we found in the future and traced back
to this island...’ He trailed off as he saw the ring of
disbelieving faces around him. ‘Part of an alien spacecraft, as
it turned out,’ he added helpfully. The silence grew deeper.
‘No, well I didn’t think you’d accept it quite as readily as all
that. But nevertheless, it happens to be true.’
De Veer chuckled. ‘Say, Mr Grover, we should get them
writing for Paragon. A crazy story like that might do well.’
Mike spoke up crisply. ‘Mr Grover. You said earlier you
were in my debt for saving your daughter. Then, for the sake
of that debt, and your daughter’s life, please believe what we
say and get away from this island as soon as possible.’
Liz was impressed. There was a quiet dignity about the
young sergeant’s manner that carried conviction. She began to
take more of a liking to him.
Grover wavered. ‘And I still stand by it, son. But this has
got me confused. What you did doesn’t mean you’re not in on
some kind of set-up. Maybe saving Amelia fitted in very well
with your plans. You think you can make something of this
place for yourselves, and you want us away from here. So you
cook up a scheme to scare us off.’
The Doctor snorted. ‘Really! What a preposterous notion.
If I wished to frighten you away, I’d concoct a far more
convincing story than this.’
‘So I’m supposed to believe any wild story I’m told, just
because it’s crazy?’
‘Quite so,’ interjected Sternberg. ‘They want to keep the
discoveries here for themselves. Well I will not leave until I
have discovered the specific cause of the mutations on this
island, do you hear?’
‘I’m very much afraid that won’t be possible,’ said the
Doctor. ‘Even if it weren’t for the volcano, I rather suspect the
mutations are caused by some extra-terrestrial agency, which
in all probability is quite beyond your resources to
comprehend or analyse.’
‘Hah! You insult my intelligence and abilities, now.’
‘Not at all. I’m just warning you that you’re dealing with a
situation beyond your understanding.’
‘Well if so, I will make them understandable and turn them
to my purpose. That is what science is about!’
‘And exactly what purpose would that be, Professor?’ Liz
asked curiously.
Sternberg faltered. Grover said: ‘Enough of this. Give me
proof. Show me this “time bridge” of yours.’
‘Ah...Well it’s not working very reliably at present as the
message says,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘You’ll have to wait till
six o’clock at least.’
‘And by then it might be too late!’ Liz put in. ‘Sorry,
you’ve got to do better than that.’
The Doctor fished in his pockets and brought out his sonic
screwdriver. ‘You saw this work on the crabs and bats.
Examine it. You can tell this is an unusually advanced device
not of your time.’
‘A clever gadget,’ Grover said dismissively. ‘I don’t doubt
your intelligence, Doctor. But tinkering that up means
nothing.’
‘What about the sea tank?’ suggested Mike.
‘They’re peculiar, I grant you, but what do they prove? I’ve
only your word those remains inside it were of some kind of
intelligent fish. And that’s still nothing to do with the
volcano.’
‘Well, there is the spacecraft in the crater,’ pointed out Liz.
‘Though of course it might not be a good idea to go up there if
there’s going to be an eruption,’ she finished reflectively.
‘There’s something nearer than that, Liz,’ the Doctor said
suddenly. ‘Something your daughter can already vouch for,
Mr Grover.’ Amelia looked at him curiously.
‘What?’
‘The so-called statue in the pit she fell into.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ asked Mike in
surprise.
‘You did say it looked like nothing on Earth,’ the Doctor
reminded him. ‘I believe that may be literally true. I think it’s
the body of the pilot of that spacecraft in the crater.’
‘But it’s huge!’ Mike protested.
‘Life comes in many forms and sizes in the universe, you
know. In fact, Professor Sternberg was telling us a legend
about a giant earlier.’ Sternberg blinked in surprise. The
Doctor turned to Grover. ‘How about a little expedition,
assuming Sergeant Yates can find his way back to the pit, to
view the remains of an alien life form? Isn’t it worth an hour
of your time to find out for certain whether we’re telling the
truth or not, bearing in mind the consequences if we are?’
Grover thought for a long moment, then nodded. ‘Okay,
Doctor, you’re on.’
The camera work was shaky and clearly amateur, but the
Brigadier found it more interesting than he expected.
After some initial jerky moments and some hasty focusing,
a globular vessel appeared in the centre of the screen, drifting
across the sky beyond some rooftops and a cluster of
television aerials. This gave the image a sense of scale,
suggesting the globe was at least a hundred feet across.
Suddenly it darted across the sky, momentarily catching the
cameraman unawares. The screen blurred as he tried to catch
up with it. He did so just in time to see a lance of blue fire stab
down at the ground. There was a flash of an explosion. Then
the craft shimmered and vanished into thin air. Later
investigation revealed that the spectacular beam of energy had
made no mark on the ground that anybody could discover.
There were excerpts from more incidents like that, together
with several still pictures and many unimpeachable
eyewitness reports. The news services were, understandably,
having a field day. Globes had been seen across most of the
American West Coast, it seemed, together with occasional
sightings of smaller winged craft that outperformed any
known make of jet. The data accompanying the film also
included reports from military and civilian air-traffic
controllers about intermittent images on their radar screens.
Such highly trained people did not usually come forward
about unusual sightings, he knew full well. Quite the reverse,
normally.
But in one respect every observation was the same.
Whatever the object was, it faded into thin air after only a few
minutes of visibility. Some reports even spoke of objects
remaining like glassy ghosts the whole time.
The Brigadier hunched over his desk, drinking his coffee in
a distracted manner. Clearly this was more than the usual
hoaxes, weather balloons or marsh gas incidents. Something
undeniably peculiar was going on.
Under Ferraro’s direction, a working party cleared the
treacherous covering of dead branches from the pit, letting
daylight pour in. Through the enlarged aperture they could
now see the statue from above. With its arms upraised, it
almost seemed to be beckoning to them.
Liz grimaced at its parody of a face and said to Mike: ‘I
don’t blame you for getting a fright when you saw it first.’
‘Believe me, I would have jumped twice as high if I’d
known it was a corpse. Assuming it turns out to be what the
Doc says.’
‘I’m sure it is. Nobody would deliberately make anything
that grotesque.’
‘All in the eye of the beholder,’ the Doctor murmured.
Beside them, an enthusiastic Dodgeson started taking
pictures. Grover stood looking on thoughtfully, with his wife
close at his side. Liz wasn’t sure why she had come along,
since it was obvious she didn’t like the forest. She did seem to
be making a show of being close and affectionate to her
husband, which clearly pleased him. Amelia Grover caught
her eye and walked over, smiling apologetically. ‘I’m sorry
your word is being put to the test like this. But you understand
my father’s reasons.’
‘But do you believe us?’ the Doctor said intently.
Amelia glanced at Mike Yates for a moment, then said
decisively: ‘Yes, I think I do.’
‘Then please speak to your father, if he should need more
convincing. Now you know of the impending eruption, you
would be foolish not to leave as soon as possible.’
‘The repairs on the hull won’t be finished for a few hours
yet, but then I’m sure we’ll go. After the deaths of those brave
men who went out after me, I certainly don’t want to stay
longer than I have to.’
The sailors finished securing lines about the bole of the
dead tree that lay across the lip of the pit and suspended a
sturdy wooden runged rope ladder from them. Ferraro climbed
down first with a lantern, then one by one the rest of the party
followed.
Grover stood back from the huge figure, Nancy holding
tightly to one arm, frowning. Sternberg curiously touched one
of its legs, then took a penknife from his pocket and began to
scrape at the surface, clearing away the years of grime and
dust. Dodgeson began to set up a camera tripod and flash unit.
De Veer said: ‘Well, it’s impressive in a kind of hideous
way, I give you that. Maybe, if we go on with the film, we can
work it into the story.’
‘That might be in very bad taste,’ said the Doctor
scathingly. ‘Examine it closely, man. You can see it’s no
statue.’
At his urging, they all gingerly began to prod and scrape at
the accessible parts of the figure. Liz noticed small details on
its surface that suggested seams and joints. Gradually she
realized what she was looking at.
‘It’s wearing some kind of protective suit and helmet, isn’t
it?’
‘Yes,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘I think the environment of Earth
was quite hostile to it.’
‘But what about those rods that run up its legs inside the
suit?’ asked Mike.
‘A powered exo-skeleton for support in our gravity. From
its size, I should say it evolved on a smaller world than ours.
Probably hotter too. Remember the dark hull of the spacecraft,
Liz, and the way it absorbed energy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, this suit worked in the same fashion, most likely,
absorbing whatever ambient heat it could, to supplement its
internal heaters.’ He tipped his head back and examined the
thing’s single eye again. ‘From the look of that crystal, I
should say this was a flurosilicone life form. More like stone
than flesh and blood in these conditions. That sort of body
chemistry needs temperatures of several hundred degrees to
function properly in.’
Grover said impatiently: ‘Well, Professor, what do you
make of it?’
Sternberg broke off his examination to mop his brow. ‘I am
forced to admit it is like nothing I have ever seen. It is
certainly no statue. Whatever this material is made of I cannot
cut into it and hardly even scratch it, yet it is undeniably pliant
to some degree. Fantastic as it seems, it may be what they say.
But I must get to the creature inside to be sure. But how to
open this thing? I see no buckles or zips...’ He trailed off,
muttering to himself.
Surprisingly, Nancy Grover spoke up. ‘Well I know it’s not
from around here. Just looking at it’s enough to tell that. And
that eye...It feels creepy. Can we get back to the yacht soon,
please, Marshal?’
‘Just a minute, Honey,’ Grover assured her. He turned to
the Doctor. ‘All right. Say I believe this is some kind of man
from Mars. And maybe you are from the future. Okay, we’ll
go out a little way in the yacht when she’s fixed. But if that
volcano doesn’t blow on time, you’re going to have some
more explaining to do.’
‘That is a very sensible decision,’ said the Doctor.
‘But why did this...creature come to Salutua in the first
place? And how did it get down here?’ Amelia asked
practically.
‘The spacecraft in the volcano was damaged, so we think it
landed for repairs,’ Liz explained.
The Doctor had been walking about the huge figure
examining it intently. Suddenly he said: ‘Can I have some
more light on this side? Thank you.’ The others followed him
round and he pointed to the smooth bulge on its back. ‘Yes,
there, on its life-support pack. Do you see the scratches and
dents? I think it simply fell through the roof. The tree
probably came down later and helped cover the hole.’
‘But why didn’t it climb out?’ Mike wondered.
‘Its size would not make it very agile, especially on what
is, to it, a high gravity world. Besides, I don’t think it had
time. If its heating unit was damaged, it probably froze before
it could do anything about it.’
‘Froze?’ exclaimed de Veer.
‘To its kind, the tropics are colder, relatively speaking, than
Antarctica in mid-winter would be to you.’
Amelia shivered unconsciously. ‘How terrible.’
‘Yes,’ Liz agreed. ‘I just wonder why it travelled so far
from its ship if the environment was so hostile?’
‘It must have had a good reason,’ the Doctor agreed.
‘Whatever it was, I think it had something to do with the
cause of the anomalous growth on the island. It would be most
unlikely that the two events were not connected in some way.’
Sternberg had been peering upward intently. ‘Look, there.
That larger bulge at its waist. It is a separate container of some
kind?’
‘I believe it is, Professor. Sergeant, give me a leg up, will
you, and I’ll take a look.’
Mike boosted the Doctor up high enough to reach the
object in question. The Doctor scraped away at the encrusted
dirt, revealing a flap closure. After some fumbling it sprang
open. The Doctor reached inside and carefully drew out a
rectangular box. Mike lowered him down again and
everybody peered at the new find.
The box was silvery white, about a foot long by six inches
high and four deep. There was a deep indentation on one side,
the equivalent of a thumbnail slot on the human scale, Liz
realized. The Doctor dug his fingers in and pulled. The lid and
part of one side smoothly opened. Inside were three recessed
padded compartments. One space was empty. Nestling in the
other two were fist sized cubical containers, made out of what
looked like tinted glass. One held a cylindrical bubble of
amber fluid within it, the other a far smaller spherical bubble
of red fluid. Fine spidery writing, a little like a cuneiform
script, covered one face of each container, as though it had
been etched into the glass.
The Doctor’s face lit up in sudden understanding. ‘Ah,
Semquess drug ampules. That explains it.’
‘Sem who?’ asked Mike.
‘Semquess. Some of the most skilled bio-engineers in the
galaxy. Their genetic drugs could very well have caused the
gigantism here.’
‘It looks as though there’s one ampule missing,’ Liz
pointed out. ‘You don’t suppose it got broken, maybe when
this Semquess fell down here.’
‘Perhaps, Liz, though the container looks undamaged, and
these ampules are quite tough. But this creature wasn’t a
Semquess. Definitely not.’
‘Then what was he doing with their drug ampules?’
‘I’m not sure. The Semquess are, I’m afraid, a rather venal
race. They’ll make anything for sufficient payment.’ He held
one ampule up to the light. ‘I don’t know what these
remaining ampules contain. The lettering is only a form of
code identification. Possibly they are different versions of the
growth stimulator, possibly something else. They may be no
longer active after all this time, but I can’t take a chance on it.
They must be destroyed as soon as possible.’
‘I’m sorry, Doctor,’ said Grover heavily, ‘but I can’t let
you do that.’
Liz looked up in astonishment. A ring of sailors surrounded
them, each with his rifle raised.
Twelve
T
he tableau in the pit held for several seconds.
A shaft of sunlight striking through the hole in the roof
illuminated them all starkly, while reflections splashed up the
arching walls about them and twinkled in the single red eye of
the frozen giant at their backs.
Nancy stood behind the threatening ring of sailors, next to
Amelia, de Veer and Dodgeson – all for a moment united by
variations of shock and surprise writ large on their faces. At
the sailors’ shoulders were Grover and Sternberg, watching
the three strangers intently. Grover looked sad but resolute,
Sternberg eager and impatient. Nancy saw Yates start to reach
for the machine-gun still slung over his shoulder.
‘Please don’t make me order them to fire,’ Grover said
sharply. ‘I’d hate to harm any of you, really. Not after what
you’ve done for us. But if I order it, they will. They’re a loyal
crew.’ Mike sensibly put his hands up. ‘Take the sergeant’s
gun, boys, and his pack and knife. And that sound gadget of
the Doctor’s.’
‘Pa!’ Amelia said in disbelief. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Quiet, Amy...please.’
As the sailors set about disarming them, the Doctor
recovered the use of his tongue. ‘You have an odd way of
expressing your gratitude, Mr Grover.’
‘I’ll explain in a minute, Doctor. First, hand that box of
ampules over to the Professor. Please don’t try any tricks.’
Sternberg took the container with all the tenderness of a
mother holding a newborn baby. His expression, Nancy
thought, was little short of rapturous.
‘Professor,’ the Doctor said sternly. ‘I strongly advise you
not to meddle with those drugs. They may have properties far
beyond anything you could imagine.’
Sternberg looked at him with contempt. ‘You cannot
frighten me now, Doctor. But never fear, I will take care. I
will learn their secrets. This is what I came to Salutua to find,
though I never dreamt it would be in such a manner. This will
be the turning point of my life!’ A fanatical gleam came to his
eyes. ‘They hounded me out for one little mistake! Now I’ll
show them!’ The sudden passion boiling out of the little man
was almost tangible.
‘Okay, Professor,’ Grover said firmly, calming the excited
scientist. ‘You take the ampules back to the yacht and get
started. Ferraro, go with him, please.’
There was a moment’s silence while the Professor and
escort left. Amelia placed herself before her father, her face
set.
‘Pa, what are you doing, how can you treat these people
like this? What’s it all about?’
Grover looked at her tenderly, clasping her hand. ‘It’s all
about you, Amy. I’m doing this all for you.’
‘What?’ She looked stunned. Nancy gaped at him in
surprise.
‘It’s very simple,’ Grover continued. ‘When Sternberg told
me about this place and why he wanted to come here, it
wasn’t simply for some ivory tower high-minded research.
No, he had a particular idea in mind. He knew about you from
the story the papers ran about the special clinic for amputees I
gave to Mercy Hospital, remember? And that gave him an
idea that sounded pretty far fetched, in fact practically crazy,
but one he knew I’d have to go for. And I did. I couldn’t pass
up the chance, even though it was a long shot. You see, if he
could find out what made everything grow so much here, he
said he might be able to extract it, and use a little’ – Nancy
could hear he was choking up – ‘to make your arm to grow
back again!’
Amelia was astounded, blinking incredulously at her father.
The words now tumbled out of Grover.
‘I wanted to tell you the truth, Amy, but I dared not get
your hopes up just in case it all fell through. But you had to
come along on the trip, in case whatever Sternberg found
wouldn’t keep till we got back home. So I made it seem like
the filming was the big thing we were trying to keep secret,
and got by with taking the smallest crew we could to make it
seem convincing...’
His words seemed to fade into a roaring mist around
Nancy. She swayed, close to fainting. For Amelia! He’d done
it all for Amelia! Something snapped inside her.
‘What the hell is all this!’
Her shrill scream of jealous rage cut Grover short and
echoed round the pit. All eyes turned to her. At her side, de
Veer, who could hardly have cared less for her now,
recognized the signs and automatically hissed: ‘Nancy –
don’t!’
But it was too late. A part of her knew she had lost her
temper and that she might say something foolish, but that part
was not in control of her tongue. When, infrequently, her cold
self-calculation left her, it revealed the angry insecurity that
always simmered underneath, ready to strike out carelessly.
‘This was for her?’ She sneered incredulously. ‘This
miserable boat trip, my film, all for her? That’s why you
wanted to stay on here so bad! Didn’t matter about me, that I
might have got killed by that snake or the crabs, oh no! You
lied about everything!’
Grover, looking distraught, was flapping his hands in
feeble placation. ‘No, Nancy. The film was genuine, I swear
it. You can still make it if you want. I was just trying to please
both the girls I love at the same time, you see?’
‘You don’t love me! It’s always been her, not me. I’m your
wife, ain’t I? You know, I almost started missing you the
other night when you were lost out there, and I never felt that
way about anyone before. But I should have known better. It
was always her first. Why do you waste your time on a stuckup bible-spouting cripple like that I don’t know...’
She bit back her next words, regaining her self-control,
horrified at what she had said.
But, once again, it was too late.
She saw the dawning realization in all their eyes, even the
three strangers: embarrassment, possibly a little sympathy.
Because, for her, it was over. They knew it and so did she.
She turned desperately back to Grover. ‘I’m sorry, Marshal...I
didn’t mean...’
It was useless.
His face was a mask. Only his eyes spoke of the terrible
hurt she had just dealt him. She could have stabbed him
through the heart and induced no greater pain. In a sense, that
was what she had just done, of course.
‘Go back to the yacht, Nancy. Find another cabin. Stay out
of my sight.’ His words fell like lead slabs. ‘Cooper,’ he said
to one of the sailors, ‘go with her.’
She turned numbly and climbed the ladder out of the pit.
Her last glance at the group below gave her a cold crumb
of satisfaction. Amelia was sobbing in her father’s arms.
Crying for herself for the first time, Nancy thought. So, she
had finally got to the girl. Unfortunately, it had just cost her a
marriage and a career to do it.
Still yawning prodigiously, Benton helped guide the lorry into
the UNIT car park.
‘You been up all night as well, mate?’ asked the driver as
he jumped down from his cab. ‘You should try a night run
from Glasgow. Rush orders!’ He looked around curiously.
‘What you want these things here for anyway? Thought this
was some kind of civil service office.’
‘That’s right, it is,’ said Benton. ‘We want them to power a
new kind of electric tea trolley. Top secret, of course.’
‘Only asked,’ said the driver, sniffily.
Leaving Osgood’s team to supervise the unloading of the
accumulators into the service lift, Benton went back upstairs
to the Brigadier’s office to let him know the equipment had
arrived. As he was passing the communications room, he ran
into Bell who was just emerging with a new sheaf of papers.
‘Going to see the old man, Sarge? These have just come
through for him.’
‘From Canberra?’
‘No, the U.S. Things are getting pretty peculiar over there.
And it’s spreading.’
‘What is?’
Bell grinned. ‘That’s what they want us to tell them.’
It was a spacious cabin, with a separate lounge, bedroom and
bathroom en suite. It also had a guard on the other side of its
locked door.
‘Well, there are worse places to be shut up in, I suppose,’
said Mike Yates philosophically. He prodded a chaise longue
to test its softness, sat down and began unlacing his boots.
‘Are you actually going to go to sleep at a time like this?’
Liz asked.
‘Might as well, Miss Shaw. Unless you two have a better
idea. You learn that in the army. Never miss a chance to catch
up on sleep, or get in a little extra under your belt. So you can
be a hundred percent awake later when you need to be.’
‘Oh, very philosophical.’
‘But eminently practical,’ the Doctor admitted, settling
himself back in a deep armchair. ‘Why don’t you pop into the
bedroom, Liz, and get a few hours’ rest yourself. You were up
all night, remember.’
‘So were you, and the night before.’
‘An hour in this chair will be all I need, thank you. Why
don’t we talk in a little while, when we’re all refreshed?’ He
closed his eyes.
‘But shouldn’t we be trying to escape, or something?’
The Doctor sighed, and opened his eyes again. ‘My dear
Liz, this is not like you,’ he admonished gently. ‘You are
usually much more analytical about things.’
‘Well perhaps I have an aversion to being locked up in a
ship aground on an island that’s going to be blown up by a
volcano in a few hours’ time. Anyway, isn’t escaping the sort
of Boy’s Own thing you do in circumstances like this?’
‘Only when it’s appropriate. For example, where would
you suggest we escape to, at present?’
Liz pondered. ‘Uh, I see what you mean.’
‘Exactly. The time bridge won’t be operational for a few
hours yet, and there is no advantage in running around the
forest pointlessly, being hunted by Grover’s men. Besides,
Grover promised he would let us go when they were ready to
depart, and I’ve no doubt he’ll keep his word. He just doesn’t
want to risk us taking those ampules back before he leaves.’
He mused for a moment. ‘Poor chap. He’s been hurt enough
already, and I’m afraid he will be again.’
Liz and Mike both nodded in sympathy. ‘You can’t blame
him for trying to help Amelia, can you?’ said Mike. ‘She’s
such a splendid girl.’
‘Precisely,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘And another reason why
we don’t want to make any foolish move just at the moment.
It might delay the completion of the repairs to the hull.’ He
nodded towards the portholes, through which the sounds of
hammering could still be heard. ‘Now that the Brigadier’s
ingenious message has let the cat out of the bag, it seems best
that these people get off the island safely.’ His face darkened.
‘I only hope this was what was meant to happen.’
Mike was looking bewildered, but Liz nodded in
understanding.
‘You mean if they all died here, that would explain why we
never heard about the discovery of the ampules in the nineteen
thirties. Assuming they are still active and have useful
properties, of course.’
‘If they are still active they will certainly have startling
properties,’ the Doctor said with feeling. Then he smiled
slightly. ‘But let’s not get despondent. Hopefully Sternberg
will never have a chance to find out one way or the other. I
think you can afford to relax for a couple of hours at last, Liz.
There’s still time to sort this matter out without additional
drama.’
‘Why? How can you be sure Sternberg isn’t testing the
contents of those ampules right now?’
‘Because I rather think he will have to overcome a more
fundamental problem first. If an ampule was broken here by
accident then it must have been very bad luck indeed. I said
they were tough. Well, they’re also very hard to open, unless
you know how...’
The cabin was packed with a very comprehensive collection
of scientific equipment. Grover had provided everything
Sternberg had asked for. A few jars now contained specimens
of dissected ant, crab and snake. Test tubes were tinted with
reagents where he had begun his analysis of extracts from
various organs. But most of the equipment was as yet unused,
waiting to serve, to justify its existence. Rather like he had
been for all these years. Or more accurately, to re-justify his
existence.
The image came to him again of the sombre wood-panelled
room where the court had sat. He could still recall the way the
sunlight had fallen through the tall windows. Strange that it
should have been such a bright day. He had been cleared of
outright malpractice, but damned nevertheless by the verdict
of misjudgement. Who would trust him now? And the family
of the unfortunate young girl who died under his care had
influence. They made sure he never worked in Switzerland
again. Austria, Germany and France were also rapidly closed
against him. So he fled to where nobody would care, as long
as he had a useful skill. He was reduced to humble medical
practice in the mission hospitals. What a fall from the heights
he had once attained.
But now he had a second chance. He turned over the
strangely formed ampules in his hands again and dreamt on.
Surely the substances within them could be turned to
initiating regeneration instead of hypertrophism? Essentially
the same parts of the cells must be stimulated in each case.
The protein component, no doubt. Or perhaps it was through
the thyroid...or the pituitary...? Never mind, he would find out.
He already knew it worked and was not harmful to the
creatures it altered. They were obviously healthy and
vigorous. Frighteningly so! And now, by an incredible stroke
of luck he had both samples and the original serum. Or
something associated with it, anyway. His tests would soon
determine just what it did. He would isolate the essence of the
drug, the vital principle that initiated such dramatic change.
Then he was sure, he was certain, he could turn it to his
purposes.
If only he could get one of the cursed ampules open!
It was ludicrous!
He could see a line in the glass which had to mark the
junction between lid and bottle. There were slight depressions
in it that suggested finger holds. But however he twisted, left
or right, or pulled or pressed in different combinations, he
could not remove the lid.
In frustrated rage he threw an ampule down on the deck. It
bounced. How was he to open it, short of a sledgehammer?
And how would he preserve the contents in any sort of pure
state then?
Lethbridge-Stewart scanned the latest reports with a
deepening sense of unease. The rash of UFO sightings had not
blown over like they usually did. They were spreading, and
details of new incidents were coming in all the time, even
though it was still night over most of America. It could not
simply be due to media-induced mass hysteria. And now,
bizarrely, it seemed to have entered the realm of the
spiritualistic as well.
‘What are we to make of this, Benton?’ he asked, tapping a
particular report. ‘After seeing one of these flying saucers, a
man in Sacramento, California, swears he saw the ghost of his
brother, who had been dead for ten years, walking about his
house. But oddly, his brother also seems to have aged
appropriately in those ten years, and is now wearing some
type of unidentifiable uniform to boot. Then there’s the man
in Santa Monica who was visited by his first wife, deceased,
while enjoying an...er, intimate moment with his second wife.
Both testify to the apparition and are supported by witnesses.’
‘A touch of the Blithe Spirits, sir,’ commented Benton,
straight faced.
‘Perhaps, but this was not a Noël Coward revival. And,
after visions of people who did not exist, comes the reverse. A
man collapsed from a heart attack in a restaurant in Portland,
Oregon, while more of these delta-shaped UFOs were
supposedly overhead. But nobody, diners or staff, seemed to
notice him sprawled across the table for almost an hour, until
a waiter tried to seat a new customer in the same chair. When
the ambulance people arrived, they reported “difficulty in
seeing the corpse”. It was taken for a post mortem, where it
was apparently lost completely. And there are dozens more
like this, plus a few from the Central States and the East Coast
now as well. It’s spreading, whatever it is, but what do we
make of it? Flying saucers I may give the benefit of the doubt
to, ever since the Autons made their invasion attempt with
those fake meteorites. But ghosts and reincarnation, even if
apparently associated with UFO sightings, are not on UNIT’s
remit.’
There was a pause, and Benton felt he should say
something. ‘I had an aunt who read tea leaves and always
reckoned herself a bit of a medium, sir, and...’
‘Well?’
‘Well...she was a nice old dear apart from that...Made a
very good cherry cake,’ he finished lamely.
‘Perhaps,’ said the Brigadier heavily, ‘she can lend us a
hand until the Doctor and Miss Shaw return.’
‘Shouldn’t think so, sir. She died five years ago.’
‘In the present circumstances, Benton, I don’t think that
will be a particular handicap.’
There had been a few hours of numbness for Nancy, mainly
taken up with the mechanical business of moving her
possessions into a spare cabin, but it had passed. Gradually
she recovered from the shock of what she had done, and then
coldly set about the business of salvaging what she could from
the remains.
She’d done it before, when she was still fighting her way
out of what passed for her childhood. The details would have
shocked her many fans. Of course now she would probably
lose them as well, she reminded herself. Her career at Paragon
was finished, Grover and de Veer would see to that. Whether
she could ever act in films again anywhere was doubtful. That
left money. Ultimately, it was all you could trust. But would
Grover even leave her with her jewellery after what she had
said? And if she disputed anything and it went to court, how
would her past, and her present for that matter, compare with
his? What sort of settlement could she expect if those affairs,
which she had carelessly failed to terminate even after her
marriage, came to light? A token dollar? She had to grab
everything she could while she had the chance.
And there was something she had seen which might give
her that security, but she needed help to get it.
There was only one person on board the ship now that she
could possibly rely on. But she would have to work fast before
he heard too much of the story of what she had said in the pit.
So she sent Tilly to Ferraro, who was on the beach again
checking the repaired hull, asking him to come to her cabin on
a matter of great importance. She then rapidly changed into a
light, clinging dress, and liberally applied her best perfume.
He arrived fifteen minutes later, standing uncertainly in the
doorway as though he was not sure if he should enter, holding
his cap in his hand and awkwardly twisting it by the brim.
Once again she was struck by the unusual image of the tough,
capable, rather hard man, who was almost reduced to the level
of a nervous adolescent in her presence. It gave her a delicious
sense of power.
‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Grover?’
From his unhappy tone, she knew he had heard what she
had done. Methodically she set about adjusting his
appreciation of events to suit her needs, letting that hint of a
gracious southern accent slip into her voice, recalling the long
suffering plantation owner’s wife she had played so
successfully in The Carolina Belle.
‘Why, Mr Ferraro, thank you for coming.’ She let her voice
falter. ‘I have been terribly misunderstood, and I wouldn’t
want you, of all people, to think ill of me. Not after your
kindness, and the heroic way you saved me from that awful
snake. Please come in, and do close the door.’
‘I must apologize for the way Pa is treating you,’ said Amelia
Grover sincerely. ‘Please be patient with him. He doesn’t do
this sort of thing normally.’ She managed a slight, sad smile.
‘But then I suppose these are not normal circumstances.’
There was no sign of the tearful young woman they had
last seen in the pit a few hours earlier, and Liz had to admire
her composure. She had come to see if they were comfortable
and to explain the situation.
‘We do understand,’ the Doctor assured her. ‘Your father is
only doing what he thinks is best. I’m sure we can resolve the
matter amicably. But there is one thing you could do for us to
ease our minds.’
‘Of course. What is it?’
‘Promise you will not accept any treatment if Sternberg
should offer it, whether from the ampules or his tissue
samples. Whatever he claims, they are a product of a science
far beyond his understanding, and could be extremely
dangerous if misused.’
Amelia smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s all right, Doctor. I have
no intention of doing so. I’ve been thinking about the
possibility over the last couple of hours, naturally. I was
tempted, but then I realized it was not...well, meant for me, if
you understand. What I am is a test of my faith. No doubt the
purpose will be revealed in due course. Meanwhile, I must
make the best of things as they are.’
The Doctor gave his best father confessor smile in return.
‘I’m very glad to hear that, my dear.’
‘Anyway,’ she continued more cheerfully, ‘we should be
afloat again shortly. The hull’s fixed and they’ve anchored a
winch line about a coral head in the lagoon and will be pulling
us free as the tide comes in. You may feel the ship rock about
a bit, but don’t worry. Then you can go ashore and wait for
your people to pick you up, if you want.’
‘With any luck,’ said Liz heavily.
‘By a sort of time machine?’
‘More or less,’ confirmed the Doctor.
She looked at them intently. ‘I’m bursting with questions to
ask you about the future, really. So would father be if he
wasn’t so preoccupied; and the Professor too, if this other
thing hadn’t gotten to him so. But now...I’m not sure it would
be a good idea to know about one’s destiny. I think you
should just go back to where you should be again and we’ll
get on with our lives in our own way.’
‘That sounds like a very sensible idea,’ the Doctor
confirmed.
After Amelia had left they were silent for a minute. Then Liz
asked: ‘If they were used properly, could these alien drugs
actually make an arm grow back again?’
The Doctor smiled in understanding. ‘Amelia Grover has
made her choice,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes, but if anybody deserves something like that, she
does.’
‘Hear, hear!’ said Mike. ‘What about it, Doctor? Couldn’t
you maybe fix it for her? Sternberg may not be up to it, but
surely you could –’
‘No.’ The Doctor spoke quietly but firmly. ‘It is one of
those times when one dares not interfere, because the
repercussions would be too great. Besides, though the
Semquess are quite capable of creating a regenerative drug
with polyphase DNA that would work on human tissue,
whether that is what is in the remaining ampules is another
matter. Both Grover and Sternberg have let their personal
desires convince them it is, or at least, can be modified to
serve that purpose. Hopefully, Amelia Grover will do as she
says and not accept any treatment Sternberg offers, whatever
pressure is put upon her.’
‘She’ll stick to her word,’ endorsed Mike.
‘But supposing he does find out how to open those
ampules, or extracts something from those samples
eventually,’ Liz suggested, ‘and his experiments show they
actually do re-grow limbs, or something equally dramatic?
Even if Amelia still refuses, it doesn’t mean Sternberg won’t
try it on somebody else. There’ll be plenty of people willing to
take the risk.’
‘Which is why it must never be allowed to happen. If
necessary, when we get back to HQ, we’ll use the time bridge
to intercept the Constitution while she’s still at sea and destroy
the ampules and samples.’
‘A commando raid!’ Mike exclaimed.
‘Something subtler than that, I hope,’ replied the Doctor
tolerantly.
‘I knew we’d get to the Boy’s Own bit eventually,’ Liz said
with satisfaction. ‘But before you start planning the mission, I
want to know more about these Semquess creatures. And what
about the alien who had their drugs on him? What are they all
doing here?’
‘And these sea tanks,’ Mike added.
‘Well in brief,’ said the Doctor, ‘the Semquess come from
a largely water covered world, and evolved near volcanic
fissures in deep ocean trenches, where they developed a
special form of biochemistry making use of the extremes of
heat, cold and pressure they lived in. They now sell specially
tailored drugs and genetic adjusters to other races.’
‘What do they actually look like?’ asked Mike.
‘In Earth terms, rather like a cross between an octopus and
a jellyfish. You saw the remains of one earlier.’
‘Oh, I’m beginning to understand. Go on.’
‘Well the sea tanks are the Semquess’ space suits, you
might say. They certainly need them. You saw what happened
to the tank and its driver when the pressure was released. And
I suspect the explosion which crippled the Constitution when
it crossed the reef was caused by it striking another of their
tanks, which was entering or leaving the lagoon.’
‘So they’ve been here for a few days,’ asked Mike.
‘Perhaps a few weeks.’
‘But what for?’ wondered Liz.
The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I’m not certain,
but possibly they want the box of drugs back. It’s all I can
think of that would motivate them sufficiently to risk what is
to them a very hostile environment.’
‘You said this was a hostile environment for the giant alien
as well.’
‘Yes, curious. Perhaps the giant was hiding from them in
the most unlikely place it could find. Remember the shield
device near the spaceship?’
‘I missed that,’ said Mike. ‘What was it doing?’ Liz
explained quickly. Mike frowned. ‘But why try to hide a
whole island? Wouldn’t just a bit do?’
‘Because you don’t search what looks like an empty piece
of ocean as thoroughly as you would even a small island,’ the
Doctor explained. ‘Especially when the high conductivity and
heat capacity of water would draw the heat out of your
quarry’s body and spaceship dangerously quickly, and make it
impossible to hide there for long.’
‘But the shield is failing now,’ Liz pointed out. ‘So the
Semquess were able to track the giant down. But it’s been
here for fifty years at least. Surely they haven’t been hanging
around all that time?’
‘They are a long lived race,’ the Doctor said. ‘And they
keep grudges. Perhaps the drugs were stolen from them. They
might have been waiting on the Moon, monitoring the Earth,
knowing that the other alien was down here somewhere but
not exactly where. Then they detected the failing shield and
were able to narrow down the field of search. The samples
you and Miss Grover saw them taking, Sergeant, were no
doubt to confirm that their drugs were responsible for the
unusual growth on the island. Of course, they are not adapted
to this environment, so it’s slow and dangerous work. They
haven’t found the alien or its spacecraft yet, but it’s only a
matter of time.’
Liz had been musing. ‘You know, grudges or not, and even
allowing for alien psychology and time sense, this is still a
tremendous effort to go through just to recover three ampules
of drugs. We know the properties of the one that must have
been let loose here accidentally, but what about the other two?
What’s worth a fifty year search? And what will they do if
they find out Sternberg has them now?’
Thirteen
‘S
o you see,’ Nancy concluded, with a despairing sigh, ‘it
was all a frightful misunderstanding. But my husband
simply won’t listen to me anymore.’ She allowed herself a
little sob. ‘I’m...afraid it’s all over between us.’
‘It’s a rotten shame all right, Mrs Grover,’ Ferraro
conceded. ‘And we could all see Mr Grover thought the world
of you before.’
‘Oh, he did...At least, he made a great show of loving me.’
She paused significantly. ‘But things weren’t all as they
should have been in private, if you get my meaning. Not
always quite...satisfactory. He is a middle-aged man, after all.
And I’m quite a bit younger than he is.’ She edged closer to
him as he sat rather upright on the sofa.
‘Yes...I can see you are, Mrs Grover,’ he agreed.
‘Call me Nancy. And you’re David, aren’t you? I think we
know each other well enough to dispense with the formalities.
And, after all, I won’t be Mrs Grover much longer.’
‘That’s awful sad...Nancy. But I hope you’ll still keep
making films.’
‘I’m afraid that is most unlikely, in the circumstances. In
fact, I don’t know how I’m going to support myself in any
halfway decent manner...’ She let her shoulders sag
hopelessly.
‘I haven’t got much put aside...Nancy, but if –’
‘Oh, you are so generous, David – a real gentleman. But
that isn’t what I meant at all. But...if you really would like to
help?’
‘Sure, if I can.’
‘Then there is one little favour you could do that would
give me some security. It wouldn’t take long and it isn’t really
dangerous, but it’s something I can’t do myself. It’s a man’s
job.’
He looked slightly uncertain but sounded resolute. ‘What is
it?’
‘The giant in the pit. Did you see its eye, behind that mask
thing?’
‘Yeah. It looked red and glittered a little.’
‘Well while everybody else was busy talking, I looked at
that carefully. I heard the Doctor call it a crystal. Now, what if
it’s a ruby? Think what it might be worth!’
‘And you want me to get it for you?’
‘Please, David. Without anybody else knowing, of course.’
‘They said it was some kind of creature from some other
world; you want me to cut out its eye?’
‘But it’s been dead for years. And I heard that Doctor say it
was really some kind of stone to start with, so it’s not as
though it was ever properly alive. It doesn’t belong to anyone,
and if this island is going to be blown up by the volcano in a
few hours, it’s going to be destroyed anyway, so what does it
matter?’
He wavered, frowning. Nancy slid even closer and rested
her hand gently on his.
‘I’d truly be very grateful,’ she said huskily, fixing him
with her intense blue eyes. There was a long pause as he
considered the possible meaning of her words. From that
moment she knew she had him in the palm of her hand. It
didn’t matter whether, deep down, he knew she was playing
up to him for her own purposes. If he realized it was an act,
then it was an act he wanted very badly to believe in. She had
him. She gave a silvery laugh. ‘You’d be my David, going up
against Goliath, like in the Bible. Wouldn’t that be
something?’
Ferraro squared his shoulders. ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ she said. And meant it. Then she bent
forward and kissed him delicately on the lips. He tried to resist
in a half-hearted way, as though acutely aware she was still
the wife of his employer. Nancy simply smiled and kissed him
again. This time there was hardly any resistance at all.
The Brigadier surveyed the laboratory with some satisfaction
at last.
The replacement accumulators were installed and being
charged. The untidy mess of emergency transformers and
temporary power cables had been cleared away and the whole
place was beginning to seem functional again. Good. He was a
firm believer in the principle that if something looked neat and
clean it worked better. That was true of both machines and
men, in his experience.
Osgood stepped over to him and reported smartly.
‘Everything running smoothly, sir. All accumulator banks will
be fully charged in another hour.’
The Brigadier glanced at his watch. ‘Which means we shall
be ready almost half an hour early. Well done, Osgood.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Of course, that still left the volcano to contend with. From
what they could see of it through the portal it appeared exactly
as it had when the Doctor first went through, but he’d no
doubt it would perform on time. Well, he’d taken all the
precautions he could, and it was a good maxim not to worry
about things beyond one’s control. His main concern, if he
had to make a pick-up away from the crater, was steering the
portal. Still, he gathered from Liz Shaw’s notes that increased
power should improve the spatial control. Of course, if the
missing three turned up before then, it would save him the
trouble. Quite what he would say to the Doctor for getting
himself into such a mess in the first place, and, incidentally,
putting them to all this bother, he still wasn’t certain. But he
was sure that inspiration would not fail him when the time
came.
He was just turning over some choice phrases in his mind
when Benton entered the lab with another sheaf of papers.
‘Don’t tell me, Benton. More reports from America?’
‘And beyond, sir. You’d better take a look.’
Benton spread the papers out in sequence on a workbench
and the Brigadier scanned them rapidly.
The US East Coast had fully succumbed to the illusions
now, but the nature of the sightings, whatever they were, had
become even stranger and more persistent. New York harbour
authorities reported multiple sightings of ghostly ships in
Long Island Sound and the East River. Some witnesses
claimed they were previously unknown classes of warship,
and talked of a veritable fleet of them assembling and heading
out to sea. Civil liberties groups immediately accused the
military of experimenting with a new type of camouflage
system and testing it on an unsuspecting public. LethbridgeStewart suspected that the relevant authorities would have
been only too happy were that the truth. Buildings were now
also coming and going, it seemed. An old warehouse in
Brooklyn, demolished the day before, could now be seen
intermittently, standing once more amid the rubble, but subtly
altered, as though it had been renovated. He had heard of
haunted houses, but never of the spirit of a house itself, let
alone a warehouse. It was utter nonsense on the face of it. Yet
it seemed to be happening. And on top of all that, the saucer
sightings continued, and even more people claimed to have
seen ghosts of the more conventional form.
Then he came to the next report.
‘Japan, now, Benton?’
‘Apparently so, sir. And some mention of skyscrapers
coming and going in Hong Kong. Maybe also in China,
though they’re being a bit cagey about admitting anything’s
wrong.’
‘That would be in character.’
He read the Japanese reports quickly. More of what
America had already suffered, it seemed, from the nature of
the sightings in most major cities. The biggest worry to the
authorites there, in their more ordered society, was the fear of
mass panic and loss of trust in government. A real powder keg
there, he thought. He noted that there were more reports of old
buildings temporarily replacing new ones than there had been
in America. Was that significant?
‘Anyway, one thing is certain,’ he said aloud. ‘This
problem is international in scope now, and that means it’s our
responsibility.’
He strode briskly out of the laboratory and back towards
his office, with Benton at his heels. ‘While it stayed within
their borders it was the Americans’ show, and we held a
watching brief out of courtesy. But now it’s become UN
business. Send a message to Geneva and New York
confirming our involvement. Request the usual facilities be
made ready should we need them: cooperation of national
armed forces, military communications networks and so on.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And send out a request to all our offices worldwide. They
are to inform us the moment anything peculiar starts
happening in their area, if it hasn’t already.’
‘Understood, sir.’
‘And also have copies of all available material on these odd
events, especially film and picture evidence and any scientific
measurements, if anybody’s got around to that yet, sent here
automatically. I want an impressively large stack of material
waiting for the Doctor and Miss Shaw when they get back.’
‘Always hoping they do, sir.’
‘They will, Benton. The Doctor won’t avoid his
responsibilities to UNIT that easily.’ He hesitated, then added:
‘But you’d better get a squad briefed and ready to take
through the bridge to make a search, just in case they don’t
turn up or signal by eighteen hundred.’
‘Yes, sir.’
It was easier than he thought to slip away from the ship and
the activity on the beach.
Ferraro inspected the winch and the hawser couplings with
McCloud, then went down on to the sand and took a final look
at the hull. Casually he strode over to the guards still
positioned along the head of the beach under the shade of the
palms. He exchanged a few cheery words, handed out
cigarettes and reminded them that they would be away in just
a few more hours. It was clear all would be glad to be gone
from the place. The gruesome deaths of their comrades the
night before had been bad enough, but the unexplained leaflet
drop from the sky warning of the volcano had them all jumpy
and uncertain. He did his best to calm them, saying Grover
was going to take no chances.
When he reached the last man in the line, however, he
lowered his voice slightly.
‘Wallace, I didn’t mention it to the others because it might
not come off, but I’m going to try to pick up a few personal
things from the guys who didn’t make it back last night.
What’s left of them, anyway. It rankled me that we had to
leave them like that, you understand?’
Wallace nodded grimly.
‘I might be an hour or so, but don’t worry.’
‘Want me to come along?’
‘Thanks, but if I do find anything left it won’t be pretty and
I wouldn’t ask anybody else to take on this sort of job. I’ve
got my rifle, and I’ll keep my eyes open, you can bet.’
‘Okay, good luck.’
And Ferraro slipped past him through the belt of palms and
into the great forest.
Fortunately the path they had made that morning leading to
the pit was easy to find, and he hurried along it, glancing
about him anxiously as he went. As long as the island’s
monsters let him alone for just an hour he’d be home free, and
the place could blow up and sink under the waves for all he
cared. He checked again the rope wound around his waist, the
hammer and chisel in his pockets, and the sack to carry the
eye gem, or whatever fragments he could chip off it.
He reached the pit in twenty minutes. The ladder was still
in place, but he hesitated for a moment as he saw the ungainly
figure of the dead giant staring up at him. Could that thing
ever really have been alive? What a crazy story. All those
scientist types had to be slightly cracked, he supposed. It felt
better to think of the thing simply as a hunk of rock, but he
found it still took an effort to put his foot on the first rung of
the ladder. The memory of Nancy’s lips against his spurred
him on. To think that a beautiful woman like her could just go
for an ordinary guy like him. Of course, there couldn’t be
anything serious in it while he was just a seaman and was only
doing her a favour like this. But if he took a share from the
eye, and that was only fair, after all, then he could set himself
up in style. Then she’d realize he was the only man for her.
And he’d treat her right, too. Grover had probably spoiled her.
A woman like that needed a firm hand.
Ferraro climbed down into the pit and stood before the
towering figure. Now he looked more closely he could clearly
see the sparkle of its single eye behind the helmet visor, which
reminded him of the faceplate of a diver’s helmet. He was
surprised nobody else had paid it much attention at the time.
But of course, they had been diverted by the discovery of the
drug box and then the row between Nancy and Grover. And
now nobody was giving it any thought because all they
wanted was to get off the island.
He unslung his rope and, after a few practice swings, threw
the end over the giant’s shoulder so that it dangled down its
back where he could reach it. He tied it about one of its legs
just above the knee and pulled it taut. Hand over hand he
climbed the massive body until he was standing on its
shoulder, braced against one of its upraised and extended
arms. He felt uneasy, perched up there, and not because of the
height. The material of the giant’s suit gave slightly under his
boots, constantly reminding him of its disconcerting origin.
He forced himself to ignore the sensation and, placing a hand
carefully against the huge helmet, leaned forward to stare at
the eye, which glittered back tantalizingly at him.
Upon closer examination, after brushing away the dust, he
found the visor was actually formed of a fine mesh screen
over a shell of very clear, non-reflective glass, presumably to
give it extra protection. There were two large knobs with
fluted sides set on either side of the visor frame. Did they
release it? Experimentally he twisted the nearer one. It did not
move. He tried pulling with both hands, and he felt it lift as
though against the resistance of an internal spring. Now it
twisted about a quarter turn before locking again. He saw that
one side of the visor had moved an inch forward, clear of the
frame in which it had been seated. Awkwardly he clambered
over the dome top of the helmet and repeated the procedure on
the other side. Now he straddled the helmet once more,
grasped the top rim of the visor and pulled. It lifted stiffly,
rotating about the side pivots until it rested on the forehead of
the helmet. He scrambled back to his original position, braced
himself again, and peered hesitantly in at the eye.
To his relief it did not seem at all human, or indeed to
resemble anything living or dead. He took out a pocket torch
and shone it in upon the alien orb. Now it lit up, almost as
though it were glowing, and he could see the sparkles and
twinkles within as he moved the beam about. Surely it
couldn’t be a ruby, that was just too much to hope for. He
turned over the little he knew of gems stones in his mind.
Garnet was also red, wasn’t it? And even though they were
only reckoned to be semi-precious, a stone this size would still
be worth a fortune. Yes, he could believe in that. And even if
it wasn’t garnet, it had to be worth something simply as a
curio. Maybe he could chip the whole thing out in one piece?
He peered at it more intently, examining the socket,
wondering how deep it was set. But his torch kept swinging
back to irradiate the depths of the eye. The sparkles, like
frozen fireflies within, entranced him.
He stared longer and deeper...and deeper.
‘You must tell me, Doctor,’ Sternberg pleaded. ‘How may
these cursed ampules be opened properly?’
Liz felt some pity for Sternberg’s predicament. She
suspected he had had to swallow his pride to come and beg for
help like this, after his earlier words in the pit. How frustrated
he must feel to have such secrets within his grasp, yet be
denied them by the simple matter of an unopenable bottle!
Evidently the Doctor felt the same way, for his reply was
resolute but sympathetic.
‘I am really so sorry, Professor. But I cannot allow you to
use those drugs.’
‘But you already know of these things, somehow. So you
must know how they are opened!’
‘Perhaps, but I will not tell you.’
‘I will inform Mr Grover of your stubbornness. He will
force the information from you!’
‘I think not,’ said the Doctor calmly. ‘His behaviour earlier
was quite atypical, if I’m any judge – the product of
momentary necessity. I cannot believe he would resort to
violence now.’
Sternberg’s shoulders slumped. He must have known his
threat was an empty one. ‘Then I shall persevere despite you,
Doctor. I will discover the trick of opening those ampules
eventually. I will have my triumph!’
‘That is your choice,’ the Doctor acknowledged, ‘just as
non-cooperation is mine. But I remind you again of the
possible danger, should you succeed in opening those
ampules. There is a time and place for such discoveries,
Professor, and now is not it!’
But the warning fell upon deaf ears once more, as the guard
let Sternberg out of their cabin and locked the door again
behind him.
‘Squad ready, sir,’ Benton announced.
‘Very well.’ The Brigadier surveyed the line of soldiers
mustered in the corridor outside the laboratory. ‘Right men.
Stand easy for the moment.’ The Brigadier entered the lab
with Benton.
‘Accumulators fully charged, sir,’ Osgood reported.
‘Good. Anything to report?’ he enquired of the soldier on
watch before the image coil.
‘No sign of them, sir.’
‘And the volcano?’
‘Activity as before, as far as I can tell, sir.’
‘All right. To your places everybody. Powering up.’
The equipment hummed into renewed life. The Brigadier
took the portal vertically upwards and rotated it through a
complete circle. The island seemed just as it had been before.
‘Full power. Let’s see how the control has improved.’ He
directed the portal down and out over the crater wall. It started
smoothly, but before he’d reached the edge of the forest, the
image started to sway drunkenly about again, despite his best
efforts. Eventually he pressed the reset and the portal returned
to its starting position in the crater.
‘It’s improved, but not much, blast it! It would be almost
impossible to get back through with it dancing about like that,
at least, not amongst the trees. We’ll have to work out an
alternate remote recovery procedure, Benton. Still willing to
go?’
‘Of course, sir. But they may turn up yet, or signal. It’s still
half an hour until they would expect us to be ready.’
‘Possibly, Benton. But I’ve decided not to chance it.
Prepare to take the squad through in five minutes. If the signal
appears at eighteen hundred, there will be time for you to
return to the crater before attempting to pick up the Doctor,
Miss Shaw and Yates. If not, we’ve gained half an hour extra
for the search. And if they’re alive but trapped somewhere
down there, that could be crucial!’
Nancy was pacing the decks anxiously when she saw Ferraro
emerge from the forest and stride swiftly across to the yacht.
Her heart leapt in relief. He was carrying a sack in his hand,
but she couldn’t tell if it contained anything or not. Still, she
reasoned, a fortune in ruby chips would not take up much
room. She watched him go below and hurried back to her own
cabin to wait as arranged.
Ten slow minutes passed without the expected knock on
her door.
What could have delayed him? Perhaps he was busy with
essential work for the impending re-launch of the ship? She
went back out on deck again impatiently, hoping to catch sight
of him and at least get a sign that he had been successful.
She was just in time to see Ferraro descending the ladder to
the beach once more. But he was now carrying two bright
metal cans with hermetically sealed caps, of the kind that was
often used to hold water or fuel in hot climates. What was he
doing with them and why go out again? Something must have
gone wrong, but why hadn’t he come to her to explain? She
saw him walk determinedly across the sand, exchange a few
words with one of the sentries, and disappear into the forest
once more.
His unaccountable behaviour left her in an agony of
uncertainty. Should she go after him? If something had gone
wrong, he might need help. Or what if he was trying to
double-cross her? Either way she had to know immediately.
There was not enough time left to play things casually. Which
meant she would have to conquer her fear and follow him.
Steeling herself, she made her way down to the beach and a
few steps across the sand towards the forest. But how was she
to slip past the sentries? Though everybody was tactfully
ignoring her after her disgrace, if she insisted she wanted to go
into the forest, Grover’s orders about an escort still remained
in force, and she could hardly follow Ferraro in those
circumstances.
Then came a shout from the lookout on deck: ‘Fire over the
volcano!’
Nancy saw a tiny ball of red fire trailing a thread of smoke
behind it rise over the tree tops. Fear clutched at her. The
eruption was beginning and they were not even afloat yet! She
spun round to see the figure of Captain Pascoe appear on
deck, grasping a pair of binoculars. After a moment he called
out reassuringly: ‘It’s okay. They’re only flares. Somebody
must be firing them off the top of the volcano.’ There was a
murmur of relief and puzzlement. Some of the guards
curiously moved out from their shelters to see for themselves,
though the actual summit itself was obscured by the lofty tree
tops. Distantly there came the echo of three regularly spaced
rifle shots. Then another flare rose into view. Of course. It was
the other members of the British expedition. They were
obviously signalling to their lost companions.
Then she realized that, for a moment, everybody was
ignoring her. All eyes were turned to the sky.
Nancy seized the chance and ran for the trees. In seconds
she had disappeared into their shade in pursuit of Ferraro.
‘Millar and Johnson, keep watch up here,’ Benton ordered.
They were standing on the crater rim next to the remains of
a campfire, presumably the Doctor and Liz Shaw’s, with the
island spread out before them. There was still no sign of any
signal, and the sun, shimmering slightly oddly, Benton
noticed, was already sinking towards the horizon. When it
rose again the island would no longer exist.
‘You’ll be radio relay between us and Davies down by the
portal, who’ll pass messages through to the lab,’ he continued
briskly. ‘Let us know if you see anything, and keep sending
those flares up at regular intervals.’
‘Understood, Sarge,’ said Millar. ‘Uh...what if the volcano
starts to do its thing early, while we’re still up here?’
‘Then you’ll have to decide which way you’re going to run,
won’t you? The line we strung across the bottom of the crater
will guide you back to the portal through the steam, but if
there’s no time, just make for the nearest beach. Don’t worry,
the Brig’s ready to pick us up there just in case.’
As long as we can jump through the portal while it’s
waltzing all over the place, he reminded himself. He turned to
the rest of the squad.
‘All right, spread out. I want a fifty yard separation as we
enter the trees. Keep your radios on open channel at all times.
Report anything suspicious, or that might give us a clue to
where the others are. Let’s get started.’
They set off down the side of the mountain.
Nancy was trembling with nervous exhaustion by the time she
reached the pit.
She had flinched at every rustle in the undergrowth in the
course of her journey, expecting at any moment to see some
monstrous creature spring out at her. At one point she had
come across a huge bird with a body the size of an ostrich,
supported on almost comically short legs, which pecked and
scratched under the trees for grubs. She had barely stifled a
scream, but the bird had merely blinked at her curiously for a
moment, then continued feeding. And then she had almost run
into a black beetle as big as a dog that trundled across her
path, leaving her weak with shock. She hated bugs, she hated
this island. If she had her way, the world would be full of
wonderful, exciting cities, and she’d never have to go out in
the wilds again!
At last she saw the fallen tree that rested across the edge of
the pit ahead of her. As she staggered weakly up to it, she
heard a scraping, cracking noise. Then a rushing sound and a
muffled crash. Peering uncertainly round the tree, she saw
Ferraro heaving at a dead branch, dragging it from the pile the
sailors had made when they cleared the top of the pit that
morning. He pulled the branch to the edge, heaved it over into
the depths of the pit, then immediately went back for another
one. There was a feverish intensity about his activity. Clearly
it was important, but she could not begin to guess why.
She stepped over to the edge of the pit as he began hauling
on another branch and looked down. The giant’s visor had
been raised, revealing the eye gem to be still in place and
intact. She turned to him.
‘David, what are you doing? Why couldn’t you get the eye
out like we planned?’
She had to repeat herself before he appeared to realize she
was there. When she did get his attention, his eyes seemed not
quite to focus upon her. She saw he was panting with effort
and sweat ran down his face and stained his shirt.
‘Got to get the wood...into the pit,’ he stated in flat,
breathless tones, as though that was explanation enough.
‘But why? What for?’
‘Must have a fire...for heat.’
‘What? Oh, I get it...’ A vague understanding began to
dawn. Heat cracked stone, didn’t it? Obviously he had failed
to dig the gem out with the tools he had and was trying
another method. It was a smart idea.
‘You mean you need a fire to get the eye gem out?’
He looked at her blearily for a moment, almost puzzled,
chest heaving, swaying slightly. ‘Yes...needs heat...to get
free,’ he said, before catching hold of another branch.
Nancy gazed at him in surprise and wonder. He was singlemindedly driving himself into the ground to get the gem for
her, and she felt unaccustomed gratitude rising within. She
helped him as best she could to pull the branch across and
topple it into the pit – ignoring the scratches she picked up in
the process – and then the next, until all the loose wood was
gone. Without another word, Ferraro climbed down the ladder
and Nancy followed. The metal cans she had seen him carry
off the ship were already down there. Some branches had
fallen at the feet of the giant, but Ferraro threw on more until
the pile was six feet high. Then he unscrewed one of the cans
and Nancy smelt gasoline. Ferraro splashed it over the pile
and stood back, fumbling for matches. He struck one and
tossed it on to the pile. The wood caught with a rush and pop
of blue fire. Flames licked up about the giant’s legs. The heat
made Nancy cover her eyes and back away. She felt the draft
from along the tunnel that Amelia and Yates had escaped
down. It was feeding the flames and the pit was acting like a
chimney. That was good, she realized, because the fire would
draw better and burn hotter.
Eagerly she watched the fire grow brighter. The dirt and
grime of the years seemed to flake off the giant’s outer suit,
exposing its original dead black surface underneath. As it
grew hotter she noticed it began to glisten slightly. Ferraro
went to throw another branch on the fire, but she put a
restraining hand on his arm.
‘No, let’s see if this is enough. We’ve got to let it burn
itself out before we can get to the eye, remember.’
His arm swung out as though he were swatting a fly. The
back of his hand caught her across the face with stinging
force, sending her sprawling to the ground.
As she lay there, stunned and uncomprehending, she saw
him throw the branch on to the blaze, then stand stock still, as
though waiting, staring at the giant figure now wreathed in
flame and smoke. There was something so arresting in his
posture that the spleen she was going to vent upon him for
being a fool and a double-crossing bastard died in the back of
her throat. Inexorably, her eyes also turned to the giant.
Very, very slowly, after so many long years, its arms were
dropping back down to its sides.
For a moment she thought the heat was cracking whatever
the giant was made of. But the motion was too smooth. Then
she saw the great head turn and lower, until its cyclopean gaze
rested upon Ferraro and herself.
It was alive.
Nancy screamed in pure terror, scrabbling to her feet and
backing away into the tunnel mouth. Something soft and
sticky brushed her shoulder and clung. She tried to pull away
but other tendrils twined about her, and the more she
struggled, the more entangled she became. It was the remains
of the spider web that had trapped Amelia. Though its maker
was dead, it had claimed one last victim.
Now she felt the eye of the giant full upon her. She tried to
look away, but she could not. Her screams faded into nothing.
The giant raised its arm again, but this time it was pointing.
Pointing at her. And its eye glowed redder and redder. Not
with the reflected light of the fire, but from deep within.
Fourteen
H
eat. Warmth. Life. Brokk slowly revived as energy
coursed once more through the intricate crystalline
structure of his eye-brain. Solid state synapses began to
function, releasing the memories frozen within by years of
terrible cold.
He remembered.
His craft began to malfunction as he entered the lower
atmosphere.
Cabin pseudo-gravity failed, and he felt the heavy world
tug him back into his control chair. It was an effort to move
his arms, despite the bracing of his suit. He was losing
altitude, but all he could see below him through the murky
atmosphere was a freezing ocean of hydrogen oxide. Was
there no solid land on this world? Then his long range scanner
detected an island ahead. Upon it the infra-red sensor
indicated one point of tolerable warmth. Could he reach it? He
did, but just barely. Still losing altitude, he crossed the oddly
formed shoreline and found himself flying over a strange
landscape of dark, low-spreading, cold-adapted vegetation,
somehow drawing sustenance from the feeble light of the
planet’s distant sun. The heat source grew stronger and he
pinpointed its location. On his vision plate he saw a hot spring
issuing from a crater in the summit of a sharply angled hill.
Good. It would provide a site both of power and concealment
from any native life forms. He had detected virtually no
electromagnetic radiation from the planet that would indicate
significant technology, so there was little possibility of local
assistance in his repairs, and he wanted no contact with
primitive beings in his present circumstances.
But even as he made his landing approach the overstrained
hull creaked and split open. Freezing air rushed in, chilling
him dangerously before he could close the visor of his
insulating suit. Warning lights lit up across his control panel.
There was a lurch as a thruster unit failed. He dropped lower
over the crater, fighting for control, bringing his ship in under
the shelter of the cliff, the remaining thrusters on overload as
they compensated for the heavy gravity. There was a bump
and grating on the hull, the ship settled, and then was still. He
was down safely.
Savage joy surged through him. He had made it, despite the
Semquess’ interference. He might be temporarily marooned
on a hostile world, but he would survive. And, when the time
came, make his escape back to civilization again.
He adjusted the power system of his suit to compensate for
the high gravity and climbed awkwardly to his feet. Not
comfortable, but he would get used to it. He would have to.
Then he saw the case of ampules was lying open on the
floor. The jolting that the ship had received on the approach
run must have shaken it loose and the high gravity had done
the rest. Anxiously he gathered up the ampules, checking to
see if they were damaged. Two he found easily enough, for
there was little floor space in the ship’s single cabin. But the
third was nowhere to be seen. Instead his eye fell upon a rent
in the hull in one corner of the cabin which ran down to the
deckplates, and through which he could now see a section of
dark rock. A terrible apprehension filled him. Could the
missing ampule have slipped through it? Yes, the gap was
certainly wide enough.
If so it was now lying somewhere in that freezing
landscape, probably beyond the crater wall.
Brokk pulled himself together. Self pity was not the Grold
way. He would not give up on the missing ampule yet, but
there were other priorities to be taken care of first. He put the
insulated ampule case into his belt pouch, not wanting to risk
another accident. Sealing his suit completely and adjusting its
heating unit, he opened the main hatch and stepped cautiously
out on to the alien soil.
The dull sky over the small crater, with its tiny cold sun,
was bleak and depressing. The only cheer emanated from the
hot spring spewing up from its centre, amid a column of tepid
gas and vapour. A few splashes of liquid rock fell on his suit
and the hull, darkening and solidifying rapidly. For some
moments he basked in the homely warmth of the fountain,
before regretfully turning to the essential repairs.
There were several rents and missing panels in the hull,
blown away by the missile that had disabled his hyper-drive
unit, but they all appeared to be within the capabilities of the
auto-repair system. He opened up the feed hopper in the side
of the hull, took out a scoop, and began shovelling in loose
rock and ash from the crater floor. The analyser showed it was
moderately high in metal ore, which the system would extract
and purify, then re-shape by force field controlled vapour
deposition to replace the missing hull segments. He set the
controls to the task and closed the hopper again.
While that job continued automatically, he examined the
rest of the damage. Fortunately the thruster unit would only
need the replacement of a few severed connections. The
hyperdrive, however, would be a longer job. Some units he
carried as plug-in spares, but others would need rebuilding. It
would be several dex’s work at least, which meant he would
be marooned here for longer than he thought. Might that give
the Semquess ship that was inevitably following the trail of its
predecessor a chance to track him down? No, they would not
think of looking for him on such a hostile world. They would
reason that he had headed in for a world closer to the local
sun, or had drifted free in space, or had even landed on an
asteroid for repairs. Unless.
An unpleasant possibility struck him.
Intently he began examining the apparently undamaged
sections of the ship’s hull, looking for –
There it was!
A thin circular disc, slightly swollen in the middle, which
he could have covered with his palm. It was the same matt
black as his hull and almost invisible. A Semquess tracer,
ejected from the missile as it struck. They had planned further
ahead than he had given them credit for! He tore the patch off
and crushed it in his hands. But the damage was done. They
would certainly trace him to this world now, even if they had
no more accurate fix. Then they would ensure he never left it
alive.
Brokk re-entered the ship. He had something that would
help him stay hidden. Shortly he emerged again, carrying a
thermal probe generator and a distortion field emitter. He
located a small steaming vent a little way from the ship and
began drilling. The sonic disrupter mounted on its tip drove
the probe smoothly down through the rock, trailing the
thermophilic conductor cable behind it. When the readings
showed it had reached the pool of liquid rock that fed the
fountain, he stopped the drill and attached the distortion
emitter. The air over the island shimmered and rippled. He
made some adjustments and the effect settled down. Now he
was cloaked across a wide spectrum of frequencies from all
but the most deliberate of external examinations. He also now
had a power source independent of the ship’s systems. He had
bought himself time. Time to make the repairs and to search
for the missing ampule.
He saw the tiny sun was fast setting. It was not a
phenomenon that he was personally familiar with. The
rotation of his homeworld was gravitationally locked, and,
apart from slow liberation effects about the terminator zone,
the position of its sun was almost constant in the sky. He
adjusted his chronometer to record its motion so that he could
synchronize with the local day–night cycle. He dare not begin
his search before dark, for fear of how much further the
temperature would drop, quite apart from the lack of light.
Therefore he would work on the hyperdrive repairs for as long
as possible, and make his first exploration beyond the crater
after the next sunrise.
The climb out of the crater the following morning was more
arduous than he had expected. The slope was only moderately
steep and the ascent itself not that great. But even with the
power bracing of his suit, it was hard work. He had to cut foot
and hand holds for himself in the most difficult places, which
added to his exhaustion and drained more power from his suit
in compensation than he had expected. Eventually he reached
the crater rim, however, and stared out at the alien landscape
in some wonder.
The frigid ocean rolling away to the unnaturally flat and
distant horizon on all sides, gave him an uncomfortable sense
of isolation. This was no world for a Grold, but he would have
to make the best of it. At least the slope down the outside of
the crater was gentler than the inside had been. Cautiously,
Brokk began to make his way down, and soon entered the
zone of thicker vegetation that skirted the crater hill.
The growths ranged in size, but at the most were only twice
his height, and some lesser forms only brushed his ankles.
They were formed of strange, fibrous, insubstantial stuff, that
bent out of his way as he brushed past and then swayed back
into place again. Occasionally they moved on their own with
the currents of the heavy air. The motion was unsettling, as it
almost made them seem alive, which they were, in a way, he
supposed. But they were unlovely things – nothing like the
slender crystalline filament trees back home, which remained
decently still, except for the ever-changing reflections and
refractions within their pods and diamond leaves.
It was a shock when he saw the first signs of animal life.
Something multi-coloured and fast moving shot out from a
tree he was passing and disappeared amid the foliage. It had
actually propelled itself through the intervening space by rapid
oscillations of its lateral extremities. Of course! The dense
atmosphere made winged flight, powered only by muscular
effort, possible. Elementary dynamics, perhaps, but rather
startling to see in actuality. As he grew more accustomed to
his surroundings, he began to note more brief flickers of
motion about him, suggesting there were other life forms on
the island. They were moving away as he approached. Well,
that suited him perfectly. He was not here for xeno-botanical
studies.
When his distance compass told him that he had reached
the edge of the search area, he began to concentrate on the
ground at his feet. It was possible the ampule might have got
caught up in some of the higher growths, but he thought a
small, hard object like that would probably have broken
through their flimsy forms. Still, they did at least provide a
contrast with what he sought. If it had only fallen clear of the
lower growths, and had not buried itself in soft ground, he
thought he stood a fair chance of finding it again. Though it
was a small object, it was distinctive to his visual range. It was
not an impossible search, merely a potentially arduous one.
He knew the descent flight path he had taken and had
calculated the possible area the ampule could have fallen
within. In any case, he might as well occupy his time
searching in between making repairs, as doing anything else.
He began working his way methodically down through the
centre of the island towards the shore. At least he was
reasonably certain that the ampule had not fallen into the
ocean. If it had, it would have to remain there. He was not
coming into contact with that freezing liquid. It would draw
the heat right out of him in moments, despite the suit’s
insulation and power pack. But he was curious enough to want
to take a look at the shoreline, from a safe distance, when he
had finished his first sweep through the forest.
What he did not expect to find when he did so were signs
of habitation.
The trees had thinned out suddenly and before he realized
it, he was striding amongst a cluster of waist high structures
built of sticks and fibrous mats that could only be simple
dwellings, constructed from the local vegetation. As he bent to
look closer, a swarm of dwarf figures burst out of the
structures and scattered amongst the trees. They were
compact, stocky bipeds, hardly reaching much beyond his
knees, and some were even smaller than that. They were
fleeing in obvious fear of him.
Brokk had no intention of becoming involved with the
indigenous inhabitants, and he tried to back away into the
forest once more. But as he turned he accidentally brushed
against the projecting roof of one of the buildings. Instantly
the flimsy structure collapsed.
This seemed to anger the indigenes. Most of them had
disappeared through the trees and on to the shore, where they
watched from a distance, but a ragged line, presumably of
their warriors, was now advancing upon him, waving slender
darts in a threatening manner. He stood his ground, wondering
what to do next. He had no quarrel with them, but after
inadvertently damaging their property he doubted if they
would voluntarily leave him alone. A hail of darts rebounded
harmlessly from his suit and faceplate. Could they be made to
work for him, and was it worth the time to find out, he
wondered, as pebbles followed the darts with similar results.
The little people started to back away uncertainly. If he
planned to stay here for any length of time perhaps he could
make use of them, but in the short term they might interfere
with his search and repair work. It was simpler to drive them
away.
He turned to the nearest structure, concentrating his heat
beam. It burst into flames at the merest touch. He tried a
second structure with the same result. It was amazing how
easily living things burnt here, but then the local biochemistry
had to be fiercely active to function at such low temperatures,
he realized.
Brokk let the fire spread by itself and soon most buildings
in the settlement were burning. The heat was brief but
welcome, and he stood amid the blazing ruins to draw on their
warmth as he surveyed the results of his actions. The
demonstration seemed to be sufficient, for the creatures had
all retreated to the shore now. Slowly he followed after them,
passing through the last of the trees and halting at the edge of
a strip of pale soft ground that separated the trees from the
ocean. Even as he appeared, the indigenes were frantically
pushing a small flotilla of flimsy looking craft out through the
heavy waves that broke along the shore and scrambling
aboard them. They used paddles to propel the vessels out at
surprising speed, and soon they were mere dots in the
distance.
Brokk watched them go with satisfaction. He did not think
they would be back for some time. And if they did get over
their fright, finding their island again with the cloaking field
in place might delay them further. Assuming there were no
other such settlements, and that was surely unlikely in a place
this size, he now had the island to himself for long enough to
complete his task.
The beginning of a chill seeping up through his soles
reminded him he was nearing the end of his endurance. Even
with the suit’s insulated over-shoes, the cold ground drew the
heat from him. He began to make his way back to the crater,
noting the area he had covered for the resumption of his
search the next day.
For four local days Brokk worked on the repairs in between
regular sweeps through the forest. On the fifth day the repairs
to the hyperdrive unit and the hull were completed. Now it
was simply a matter of the missing ampule and judging when
it would be safe to attempt to leave the planet. Assuming the
Semquess had traced him this far, how long would they
maintain surveillance, and how thoroughly? He was not
familiar enough with their species psychology to answer for
certain, and he paced out a slightly longer path that day
pondering the question.
And almost accidentally came upon the ampule.
The glittering edge of a fragment caught his eye. He soon
found several more, scattered about the rock protruding
through the forest floor against which it had shattered. It
seemed an unfair reward for his persistence. Still, it was the
least valuable of the three, and he had found it relatively
quickly. He might have spent as long again on the fruitless
quest.
He began to make his way back to the crater once more. He
wondered briefly if the Semquess drug would have any effect
on the indigenous life of the island. It depended on whether or
not their genetic structure was within the range that the drug
was tailored for. Well, that was not his problem –
Without warning, the ground gave way under his right foot.
He fell heavily forward, his leg disappearing up to his hip.
Even as he struggled to pull free, the ground about him started
to crack and his whole body began to slip into an everwidening crevasse. He grasped desperately at the edges but
they crumbled under his hands.
He fell into blackness.
The drop was not much more than his own height. Back
home it would have been a minor accident. Here, under more
than twice the gravity, he struck the ground with sickening
force. He landed half on his side, some of the impact being
absorbed by his backpack, but the shock was still sufficient to
cause resonance disruption in his neuro-optical system. To a
Grold, it was the equivalent of unconsciousness.
When Brokk came to he could already feel the cold seeping
into him. Still half dazed he stiffly got to his feet, feeling for
any tear in his suit. It appeared to be intact. What was wrong,
then? He still had power in reserve. He activated the backpack
read-out and found that the heat exchanger had failed. He
must have damaged it in the fall. It was probably quite simple
to repair, once he was back in his ship. But he wasn’t in his
ship. He was trapped and slowly freezing. Even if he could
climb out of the hole, how long could he keep moving? Above
him, tantalizingly out of reach, was the hole he had fallen
through. Beyond, the feeble light of day was already failing,
and with it he seemed to feel the energy draining out of him,
even as he reached up futilely to claw at the edge of the pit.
The cold bit deeper.
A terrible numb lethargy seeped insidiously through him.
Despite his will to move, his body stiffened and froze into
rigidity, with his arms upraised. The chill reached his eyebrain, slowing his mental functions. Blackness overwhelmed
him.
But it was not death.
Grold did not die that easily.
The darkness was not quite total. Every day just enough
light penetrated the pit to trigger a flash of helpless
consciousness in his eye-brain. Just long enough for him to
sluggishly recall his plight, and then the illumination fell
below the critical threshold again and blackness returned.
Brokk counted over twenty thousand of those flashes while
waiting for the release of madness or death.
Then came a flurry of light and movement. Brief flashes of
illumination that were not sunlight – of little power but great
significance. Artificial light! How far had the indigenes
progressed since he had been down here? And then there was
one steady light, shining directly into his eye-brain, and
beyond it a tiny, grotesque figure like the ones he had chased
from the island.
This was his chance.
He gathered all the energy he could from light and radiated
images of his needs in rapid pulses through his eye and into
the tiny cold-fluid orbs of the other, so that it flooded its mind
and drove out all other thoughts.
Bring me heat! Make fire!
There was another moment of darkness.
Then he felt blessed warmth flooding through him. There
was fire licking about his body. The thermosensitive covering
of his suit automatically adjusted to absorb its radiations.
Memory returned in full and he raged against the caprice of
fate.
His continued existence was still hanging by a thread. He
must do anything to safeguard the fire that was for the
moment his only means of survival.
He forced his limbs to respond again, and turned his head,
taking in his surroundings clearly for the first time. In the light
of the fire he saw his thrall standing before him, while another
of its kind struggled on the other side of the pit, entangled
within some fine hanging mesh. He pointed at it.
Bring that one to me, he commanded, his eye pulses
flickering now with their accustomed power.
The other, still struggling, was brought before him, as close
to the fire as their fragile bodies could tolerate. He stilled its
resistance with a glance and it stood placidly beside the other.
How easy it was to dominate their simple minds. Had he
known what pliant tools these people were, he would have
converted those primitives to his service instead of driving
them away. He could have set them to find the ampule. He
would never have fallen into this trap. What a fool he had
been!
Brokk quelled his self-recrimination with an effort. Selfpreservation came first. He poured his needs into the minds of
his thralls.
You will keep this fire burning at all costs. You will help to
release me from this place. You will help me return to my ship.
You will obey!
Fifteen
S
eaman Wallace looked unhappy under Pascoe’s scrutiny,
as the afternoon shadows lengthened across the sand.
‘Mr Ferraro said he was going to burn the remains out in
the forest, Captain. That’s why he had the gasoline. He said
there was nothing that could be decently taken back for a
proper burial, and he didn’t want any animals to get what was
left.’
‘And when was this?’ Grover asked.
‘’Bout an hour ago, Mr Grover.’
‘And nobody’s seen anything of him since?’ Pascoe asked
of the little knot of guards. They all shook their heads.
‘Or Nancy?’ Amelia added. There was more head shaking.
‘Mrs Grover was on the beach when we first saw the
flares,’ one volunteered. ‘But I thought she’d gone back on
board.’
‘Well she’s nowhere to be found now,’ Amelia replied.
‘She must have gone into the forest.’
‘But we know Nancy hated the forest,’ Montgomery
asserted, joining the group, with de Veer and Dodgeson close
behind him. He had spent most of the day sleeping off his
exertions of the previous night. Now he looked remarkably
fresh again. Amelia suspected he preferred late hours. ‘If she
went in voluntarily, she must have had a darned good reason.
Something she wanted...or was trying to prove to us, maybe.’
‘But what?’ she asked. ‘She wouldn’t be playing pranks
this close to sailing. Is it anything to do with Mr Ferraro’s
disappearance?’ Nobody seemed to want to meet her eye or
voice an opinion on the possibility, and the implications of the
suggestion struck her. She realized they were trying to save
her modesty and her father’s feelings.
Captain Pascoe spoke up. ‘If I’m going to get the ship free,
we have to start now, and I’ll need all hands standing by for
that and to ready it for sailing. Sorry, Mr Grover, but that’s
how it’s got to be.’
Grover nodded. ‘I understand. Get started right now. Use
all the men you need. The rest of us will work something out.’
Pascoe nodded and headed back for the ship, with the
sailors trailing after him. Montgomery spoke up again.
‘Looks like another search party’s needed, old man. Well, I
know Nancy and I have had our differences, but I’m still
game, and I’m sure de Veer and Dodgeson here’ll lend a
hand.’
It was an offer made without bravado. There was quite a
decent person under Montgomery’s tattered façade, Amelia
decided.
‘I’ll go as well,’ she said supportively. ‘I promise I won’t
fall down any holes this time.’
‘I like your daughter, Grover.’ Montgomery grinned, but
her father was frowning at her.
‘You really want to help find Ferraro – and Nancy?’ He led
her a few paces away from the film makers and lowered his
voice. ‘After what she said about you earlier?’
She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Pa, what Nancy said was
spiteful and upsetting, but it really wasn’t such a surprise. I
think it hurt you a lot more than it did me. But even so, you’re
going to try to find her, aren’t you? Well, you can’t expect me
to do any less.’
Her father sagged slightly. ‘I’ve been an old fool over her,
haven’t I, Amy?’
‘No, Pa. You’ve just been yourself. Outside of business,
you try to see the best in people. You can’t help being that
way, any more than Nancy or I can be what we are. And she
did make you happy most of the time, remember that. We’re
simply stuck with our natures, I guess, and just have to make
the best of them.’
He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Well don’t try to make
anything else out of yours, Amy. It’s perfect as it is. And if
you really want to help, and take a load off my mind, stay on
the ship. Whatever happens from here on, I’ve lost Nancy, but
I’m not risking losing you again. No argument. That’s an
order.’
‘Okay, Pa. But look, what about Sergeant Yates, the Doctor
and Miss Shaw? You’ve got to release them anyway.
Obviously their friends are already looking for them and
might turn up here pretty soon. We don’t want any more
trouble, and if you make it up with them, I’m sure they’d help
look for Nancy and Mr Ferraro.’
‘Yes, maybe I’d better. Come on, then.’ They turned back
to the yacht. ‘All right, Montgomery. You three had better
draw some rifles and get ready. I’ve got to talk to our guests
and then I’ll be with you.’
‘Will they be joining us too?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Good idea. That sound gadget of the Doctor’s would be
mighty comforting to have along in case we meet up with
those bats again.’
They all climbed aboard. Montgomery, de Veer and
Dodgeson headed for the gun locker.
‘And do apologize properly for keeping them shut away,’
Amelia reminded Grover.
‘I had to, Amy. I couldn’t let them interfere.’
‘I understand, Pa. Just make sure they do.’
He looked at her sadly. ‘Sure you won’t reconsider taking
the treatment if Sternberg comes up with something?’
‘Quite sure, Pa. I’m so grateful for what you tried to do for
me. And I wish it hadn’t cost you like it did. But I still won’t
take any concoction of Professor Sternberg’s.’
‘As you will. But you understand I won’t have those things
destroyed, though. I promised Sternberg he could work on
whatever he found here.’
‘I don’t want you to break your word, Pa. I just believe it
isn’t meant to be.’
‘We’ll see, Amy. We’ll see.’
‘Millar to Benton, come in. Over.’
‘Benton receiving. Over.’
‘We can see some smoke down there in the forest. Just a
little at first, but it’s getting thicker.’
‘That could be their signal. Sending up a flare now. Check
our relative position.’
A few seconds later, a bright yellow point of light rose up
over the tree tops.
‘Your marker sighted. You are about a mile northeast of it.’
‘Understood. Squad regrouping and making for smoke
now. Inform base. Benton out.’
Smoke began to billow in earnest from the Constitution’s
stack as the boilers were stoked up. Pumps chugged away,
taking in water from a siphon over the stern and sending it
through the heavy hose lines to the bow, where sailors
directed the jets deep into the sand on either side of the prow.
Twin streams began to flow back down around the hull,
seeping into the sand and lubricating the natural slip-way that
the ship had gouged out for itself. Then McCloud started the
winch, drawing the hawser in over the stern runners and
lifting it clear of the water until it was a rigid bar, its far end
looped about a coral head a hundred and fifty yards out in the
lagoon. Waves swirled around the stern as the propeller began
to churn the water. Slowly, with many protesting groans and a
grating of plates, the Constitution slipped backward down the
beach and floated freely out across the lagoon once again.
A chorus of relieved cheers echoed across the beach.
‘Very neatly done,’ Liz commended.
‘Pascoe’s the best skipper I ever had,’ Grover confirmed.
He turned to the Doctor, Liz and Mike. ‘It’s good of you to
agree to help like this, after what’s happened.’
‘My dear chap,’ said the Doctor. ‘We’ve been over all that.
For the moment let’s concentrate on getting your missing
people back. There isn’t much time left, you know.’
‘We’re ready, Doctor.’
There was a hail from the bridge of the Constitution, now
floating serenely a hundred yards off shore. Pascoe was
shouting through a megaphone.
‘We can see smoke coming from inland somewhere.’
They all backed down the beach to the water’s edge to get
a better view over the tree tops. A thin column of dark smoke
could just be seen rising into the evening sky.
‘I can’t be certain,’ said Mike, ‘but I think that’s coming
from about the direction of the pit, isn’t it?’
Liz saw dismay touch the Doctor’s face.
‘Of course, I should have realized!’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ll explain as we go. Come on!’
He set off up the beach to the trees at a fast trot, and the
others followed after him.
Private Davies, wearing a gas mask and standing amid the
steam and smoke on the other side of the portal, could be seen
listening to his radio. He scribbled quickly on his pad, tore a
sheet off and held it up ready. The Brigadier increased the
power and Davis tossed the message through on to the lab
floor, where Osgood picked it up and handed it to the
Brigadier. Radio waves did not pass through the time bridge at
much under full operating power, they had discovered, so the
relay system had to be improvised.
‘The men on the crater rim can see a ship in the lagoon
now,’ the Brigadier read. ‘Say it must have been closer in to
the shore and out of sight before now. That must have been
where those lights were coming from.’
‘Is it important, sir?’ Osgood asked.
‘Possibly, Osgood. If there are others on the island after all,
that might explain where our people have been all this time.’
‘You mean, held prisoner on it, sir?’
‘If they were on board I doubt it was for a quick trip around
the bay, do you, Corporal?’ the Brigadier retorted. ‘And you’d
better get ready to assist in case we have to move the squad
across and board her.’
‘Er, can we intercept a ship at sea with this thing, sir?’
‘I don’t know, Osgood. But we’ll soon find out!’
A messenger from the communications room entered with
a new file of papers.
‘Some more background material on the island from
Canberra, sir. And a message from Geneva. But I think you’ll
want to see the other report first. It’s from Germany.’
‘So, these mirages have reached Europe, have they?’
‘Yes, sir. Rather tragically, I’m afraid.’
‘What? Let me see.’
Lethbridge-Stewart read the relevant report rapidly.
A commercial passenger jet, making its approach run to
Munich less than an hour ago, had crashed. A hundred and
twenty people were confirmed dead. Over the radio the airport
control tower had heard the pilot speak about strange aircraft
overhead, forcing him down and making it impossible to abort
the landing. Ground radar confirmed intermittent contacts, and
suffered some interference. However, the pilot still should
have been able to make a safe landing, except that the last
thing they heard him say, just before the crash, was that the
runway had shifted position.
Appended was a list of further UFO sightings, ghosts, and
altered buildings in several large cities, but he only skimmed
across them, while re-appraising the situation in his mind.
Until now the phenomena had seemed more of a curiosity:
an abstract problem that might be an inconvenience, but
manageable as long as people kept their heads. It had taken a
tragedy to make him see the wider, frightening, possibilities.
Aircraft had proven vulnerable enough, but what if it spread to
the roads? Maybe it already had, but the incidents had not yet
been singled out from the usual accident reports. After all, the
first sightings had only been reported a few hours ago, though
it seemed longer. But if this was a sign of things to come, the
chaos and loss of life could be astronomical, yet without any
identifiable material cause. Was it actually a subtle prelude to
an invasion? A worldwide softening up, so that at the height
of the confusion an enemy could land almost unopposed?
Who? The cosmic intelligence behind the Yeti, the,
Cybermen, the Nestene Consciousness...or some new horror
from outer space?
The brief tropical twilight was already shading into night by
the time they reached the pit. But there was no need to switch
on their torches. The fire gave plenty of illumination.
It was a scene Liz would never forget.
The great tree which had lain across the edge of the pit had
somehow been cut in half. Part was burning amid a patch of
smoking grass, while a projecting spray of roots from the
depths of the pit told where the rest had gone. Perhaps it had
formed a makeshift ladder, now being rapidly consumed by
the flames that licked around it and leapt twenty feet into the
night. Silhouetted against the blaze was the giant figure she
had seen that morning. Then it had seemed as immobile as any
statue. Now it was very much alive and inhumanly animate. It
was standing between the two burning halves of the tree,
warming itself against their scorching heat as one might warm
oneself against an open fire on a cold day. Held in one huge
arm, extended just clear of the flames, was Nancy. She hung
limply in its monstrous grasp, but seemed otherwise
unharmed. At its feet, working like a man possessed was
Ferraro, tirelessly dragging fresh branches and deadwood
from the surrounding forest to keep the fire fed.
‘My God!’ whispered Montgomery in awed tones. ‘You
were right, Doctor. It’s alive.’ Beside him, professional
instinct caused Dodgeson automatically to reach for his
camera on its strap before remembering he had not brought it
with him.
‘I should have realized it might have survived the
freezing,’ said the Doctor as though annoyed with himself.
‘The relative temperature drop must have been just sufficient
to induce suspended animation without inflicting permanent
damage.’
Even as he spoke the giant seemed to sense their presence.
It turned to face them, and Liz realized its helmet visor was
raised. From the recess within came a red, flickering glow,
that teased her senses. She found herself wanting to stare
deeper...
‘Don’t look at the eye!’ the Doctor shouted commandingly.
The spell was broken abruptly, and they all cowered back a
little, shielding their own eyes from the dreadful fascination of
the alien orb.
‘What in thunder’s going on!’ exclaimed Grover. ‘And
what does Ferraro think he’s doing?’
‘I’m afraid he’s been hypnotized, as has your wife. Stay
here and keep out of range. I’ll see if I can have a chat and
find out what this is all about.’
‘Be careful, Doctor,’ warned Mike.
‘A quite unnecessary injunction, Sergeant,’ the Doctor
replied dryly.
He walked slowly out into the clearing, holding his hands
up in what Liz hoped the alien would recognize as a friendly
fashion. As he neared the towering figure, the eye pulsed
directly at him even more fiercely. The Doctor stopped,
clenched fists on hips, striking a patient but resolute posture.
‘You’re wasting your time, old chap. That trick won’t work
on me. Why don’t you put the lady down, and we’ll see if we
can’t sort something out peacefully, eh?’
A pale beam of red light sprang from the giant’s eye and
struck the Doctor full in the chest. He tumbled to one side,
beating at his smouldering shirt front. Montgomery and Mike
both automatically raised their guns, but the Doctor was on his
feet again, waving at them to hold back. He turned once more
to the giant, apparently undaunted.
‘Now that wasn’t very friendly, was it? I know you might
be feeling a little confused right now, but you could at least
make some effort to communicate.’
In response, the giant turned and thrust out the arm holding
Nancy, so that she dangled over the still glowing pit. Its eye
pulsed. Suddenly Nancy screamed. Liz saw Grover flinch in
response and hold himself back with an effort. The giant
withdrew his hand, but Nancy still hung dangerously near the
edge. Her cries died away. The giant’s eye pulsed again, the
radiance washing over Nancy. She spoke out in a dull, halting
voice, as though translating a soundless message that had
nothing to do with her.
‘He says you must help him...or else he will drop me into
the pit. He must have more heat to allow him to return to his
ship...in the crater of the volcano. Make a fire path to the
crater for him to walk along. Also...the remaining two
ampules must be returned at once. Do this...and when he is
back inside his ship...he will release me.’
‘Mrs Grover,’ the Doctor called out. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ she replied flatly.
‘Can you communicate with our large friend here in
return?’
‘I can make signs and I know if he understands them. He
makes pictures and...sort of feelings in my mind.’
‘Then explain that it will take too long to lay a fire path
because the volcano is going to explode in just a few hours,
and I think that will be too hot even for his tastes. I will try to
repair his heating unit if he will let me, but we have to send
back to the ship for tools, and also the ampules, so he must be
patient. Will you tell him that?’
‘I will try.’
As Nancy began to gesture to the giant, all the while
staring fixedly into its huge eye, the Doctor returned to the
others and spoke quickly.
‘Liz, I want you to go back to the ship and fetch the best
tools you can find for electro-mechanical repair work. They
won’t be ideal, but with my sonic screwdriver I hope we can
manage.’
‘But do you think this thing will keep its word?’ whispered
Grover.
‘There’s no need to keep your voice down,’ the Doctor
commented, nodding towards the giant. ‘He evolved in a thin
trace atmosphere, so I think he’s relatively deaf, though
probably sensitive to ground vibrations. As to his word, he
probably doesn’t have any life-support facilities for humans
on his ship, so he might as well let them go as he says.
Besides, we can hardly attempt to use violence against him
while he’s holding Mrs Grover, can we?’
‘So we just give him what he wants, including the
ampules,’ Grover said bitterly.
‘I think it’s the safest course.’
Grover nodded resignedly. ‘I guess I know it really. Even
after what she’s done, I can’t risk him hurting Nancy. But
Sternberg won’t like it.’
‘Which is something else for you to do, Liz. You’ve seen
the ampules, so make sure Sternberg hands them over. In case
he’s managed to get them open, check he hasn’t decanted any
of the contents.’
‘I understand.’
Grover had pulled a slim notebook from his pocket and
scribbled a brief message on it, which he tore out and handed
to de Veer.
‘This’ll tell Pascoe to give you what you need. You and
Dodgeson escort Doctor Shaw back to the ship. I better stay
here in case...well, whatever.’
They nodded and the three turned to go.
‘Oh, Liz,’ the Doctor called out after them, ‘you’d better
bring a ladder back with you as well.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘To reach our tall friend’s backpack of course. I doubt if
we’ll be able to induce him to lie down.’
It had not been difficult to track down the location of the
smoke source once night had fallen. The fire sent flickering
shadows dancing through the trees for a couple of hundred
yards around. Benton led his squad cautiously forward until
they could see the occupants of the clearing. Then they
stopped for several seconds to take in the improbable sight,
gripping their weapons a little tighter as they did so. A giant
figure standing in the middle of a bonfire holding a woman in
one hand while a man worked at his feet to keep the blaze
going. A little way off on the edge of the trees, a group of four
men watched on. Two of them were reassuringly familiar.
‘Follow me, lads,’ Benton said softly. ‘I know where we
can get some answers.’
They skirted the clearing until they were close to the
watching group. Benton gave a low whistle. Mike looked
round, gave a surprised smile, and waved them on. The squad
emerged from cover cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the
fire-wreathed giant.
‘The Brig’s been getting worried about you two,’ Benton
said, by way of a greeting. ‘There’s something odd happening
back home, Doc, and he wants you and Miss Shaw back there
to work on it pronto.’
‘I’m sure he does,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘But we do have a
small problem of our own to deal with first.’
‘So I can see. Would anybody mind telling me what’s
going on here? And is Miss Shaw okay?’
Mike introduced Grover and Montgomery and outlined the
situation and Liz’s whereabouts in a few creditably brief and
concise sentences. Benton shook his head in dismay. ‘I dunno,
Doc. Why do these weird things pop up when you start poking
your nose into other people’s business?’ He radioed Millar on
the crater rim and passed on the news of their qualified
success in locating the missing personnel for relay back to the
lab. ‘In two minutes you’re going to get a rocket from the
Brig,’ he predicted.
‘Well before that, I need some information,’ the Doctor
replied, taking the radio from Benton and walking a few steps
away from the others before speaking urgently into it in a low
voice.
‘What’s he being so cagey about?’ Benton wondered.
Mike glanced at Grover and Montgomery, and lowered his
own voice. ‘Just checking on a bit of history, I think.’
There was no response for three or four minutes, then the
Doctor held the radio close again, and Benton saw an
expression of relief cross his features.
‘Okay?’ asked Mike, as he handed the device back to
Benton.
‘The Brigadier has found a copy of a newspaper cutting
from Canberra, stating plainly that Grover’s party witnessed a
volcanic explosion and tidal wave in this area, but the only
casualties listed were those crewmen we know have already
died,’ the Doctor reported. ‘Gratifyingly, there is no mention
of giants or time travellers.’
‘And it looks like the ampules are going back to their
owner,’ Mike observed, ‘which ties up that loose end.’
‘Time can be very tidy when it wants to,’ commented the
Doctor.
‘What are you two on about?’ asked Benton.
‘Well you see –’ began Mike, then froze. ‘Hold on, I think
I can hear something coming.’
With a whir and swish of bushes, Benton saw a small tanklike vehicle with a globular body appear out of the trees about
twenty yards away. Its camera turret swivelled round to focus
on the giant.
‘This is going to complicate matters, somewhat,’ said the
Doctor gravely.
The giant had turned to face the tank, as a mechanical arm
started to unfold from its forward unit. Before it could be
deployed, a narrow beam of light lashed from the giant’s eye.
A spot of metal on the globe became cherry red in seconds.
‘Get down!’ yelled Mike.
They fell flat as the globe burst apart with a sharp bang,
momentarily filling the clearing with a shower of water
droplets and whining fragments of shrapnel.
Benton lifted his head cautiously. ‘What was all that
about?’
‘That was the latest round in an unusually protracted
dispute we’ve inadvertently become involved with,’
commented the Doctor.
‘And the stakes have just been raised,’ added Mike.
Ferraro had returned to his fire building as though nothing
had happened, but Nancy Grover called out to them.
‘He says you must protect him from any more of those
things until he returns to his craft...or else he will kill me.’
‘Seems to me he can protect himself pretty well without
our help,’ observed Benton.
‘His internal energy levels must still be pretty low,’
explained the Doctor. ‘Projecting a beam like that must
consume a lot of power, and while he’s dependent on purely
external chemical reactions for his supply, he dare not do it
too often.’
‘We’ve got no choice, have we?’ said Grover. He turned to
Mike. ‘Sergeant, can your men deal with those tanks?’
‘We’ll do our best, Mr Grover,’ Mike promised. He
glanced at Benton, who nodded. ‘Okay, let’s get a perimeter
established.’
The UNIT soldiers had hardly taken up their positions
before another tank could be heard approaching through the
forest.
‘Let me try to talk to them first,’ said the Doctor, striding
forward. ‘I might be able to prevent further violence.’
‘Suits me, Doc,’ said Benton with some feeling. ‘But how
do you speak to a fish in a motorized goldfish bowl?’
‘The Semquess have a language of tentacle movements as
well as one utilizing waterborne sounds. I can’t mimic their
vocal range, and haven’t really got the right number of arms
for the other, but I hope I can manage a pidgin version.’
‘All right, Doctor, have a go,’ Mike agreed. ‘But if it turns
nasty, get out of the line of fire fast!’
Even as the tank appeared between the trees, the Doctor
passed through the line of crouching soldiers, waving his arms
about to attract its attention. It halted and the camera turret
turned to focus on him.
At least he’s got it interested, thought Benton.
For a minute the Doctor went through a series of almost
comic contortions, adding the occasional kick and shake of a
leg to his intricate, stylized arm movements. A pair of
mechanical arms unfolded from the front of the machine and
began to gesture back. The Doctor responded, and an odd sort
of dialogue began. Benton exchanged a hopeful glance with
Mike Yates. Perhaps they might be able to work things out
sensibly after all. Then the arms of the tank abruptly crossed
in a sharp, negative manner. The Doctor stepped closer, as
though to add emphasis to his own signs, and one arm
suddenly swung out, catching him hard across the ribs and
knocking him to the ground.
I know what that gesture means in any language, thought
Benton angrily, and fired a burst of automatic fire at the tank.
The tank rolled forward again, a new arm unfolding from the
front compartment resembling a coiled whip. The rest of the
squad joined in, and bullets ricocheted and whined away into
the darkness. Even Montgomery blazed away with his hunting
rifle. The whip suddenly uncoiled in a blur of motion,
extending thirty feet and brushing the shoulder of one of the
soldiers. There was a crackle of electricity and the man fell
twitching to the ground.
‘Doctor! Get clear!’ shouted Mike Yates. They saw the
Doctor wriggle aside on knees and elbows and then Mike
threw a grenade. It exploded under the tank, causing it to veer
sideways, but failing to crack the pressure hull. Benton tossed
another grenade. He had better luck as it lodged between the
front unit and the sphere. One of the mechanical arms twisted
round, frantically scrabbling after it. Too late! The grenade
went off, splitting the hull open. Fragments of the sphere flew
about the clearing and a light shower of dank, cold water
pattered down over them. Then all was quiet again.
Mike Yates immediately ran over to the soldier who had
been struck by the electric whip. He was curled up and
trembling violently, but at least was still alive. Benton crossed
to the Doctor and helped him to his feet.
‘You okay, Doc? You didn’t make a rude sign by accident,
did you?’
‘I was the soul of tact and diplomacy, Sergeant,’ the Doctor
assured him, brushing the dirt off his trousers. ‘But the
Semquess are simply a most obstinate and single-minded race.
They want the remaining ampules returned, and Brokk – that’s
the name of the giant by the way – punished for stealing them.
And they don’t care who gets hurt in the process.’
‘So there’ll be reinforcements along soon, you think?’
‘Most likely. They’re bound to have communicated this
location to their base. We must just hope Liz gets back from
the yacht with the tools and ampules as soon as possible.’
Benton gave a start. ‘But Doc, what happens if she meets
up with more of these tanks along the way?’
Sixteen
T
he launch grated on the sand. Wallace and his companion,
left on beach guard, helped to pull it clear of the shallow
waves. Liz noticed that they seemed agitated.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
‘Can’t be sure, ma’am,’ replied Wallace. ‘But we heard
some shooting out in the forest a few minutes ago. And a
couple of bangs that could have been dynamite.’
‘From the direction of the pit?’
‘Maybe. Like I say, we can’t be sure.’
Liz frowned, listening. All seemed quiet now. What could
have happened? Well, they would just have to get back there
as soon as possible and see for themselves. Dodgeson jumped
out on to the wet tide-line and courteously helped her down.
She noticed in passing that he now had his still camera and a
separate flashgun unit slung about his neck. De Veer and a
couple of sailors followed, carrying lanterns, tools and the
incongruous ladder. The rear was brought up by Sternberg.
His pockets bulged with the two remaining ampules, and he
had his hands thrust down over them, as though expecting that
at any moment Liz would try to take them by force.
‘I absolutely refuse,’ he said once again, as he stomped
ashore, ‘to hand these over without the direct order of Mr
Grover. I want to hear it with my own ears, you understand?’
‘I’m not arguing with you any more, Professor.’ Liz
sighed. ‘Come along and find out for yourself. When you see
that giant holding Mrs Grover hostage, you’ll understand why
we’ve got to give them back.’
‘But the loss to science! The magnificent possibilities!’ Liz
suspected it was more his personal loss that he was
bemoaning, but she didn’t press the point.
‘I sympathize, Professor, really I do. But sometimes –’
‘Hey what’s that?’ One of the sailors was pointing along
the beach, shining his torch. His companion raised his rifle
nervously, obviously expecting it was the giant crabs
returning. Instead, a globular form rolled smoothly up the
beach with a soft whir, shedding water from its caterpillar
track underbody.
‘Another sea tank!’ Liz exclaimed.
‘There’s one over here, too,’ de Veer exclaimed, pointing
to the other side of them where a second vehicle was
emerging from the waves. As they turned about uneasily the
water began to swell right beside the launch as a third
spherical body broke the surface.
‘Everybody back away slowly,’ Wallace shouted. Liz
obeyed with the others, thinking uncomfortably that they must
have passed right over the things rolling along the floor of the
lagoon on the way in.
Now five of the vehicles had surged up the beach. Their
forward units opened and arms like coiled whips emerged.
The motors whirred again and they started towards them. The
sailors pointed their rifles defiantly in response. The Doctor’s
advice of the previous night drifted through her mind: ‘Don’t
be too proud to run away.’
‘Run!’ she shouted.
The whips cracked out. Electric sparks danced along their
lengths. Wallace and the other sailor fell in contorted heaps.
Dodgeson fired his rifle inexpertly and missed, then he joined
the others in flight.
Finding their way by the dancing light of the lanterns, they
crashed through the screen of palms and on to the path that
wound between the great trees. Behind them came the steady,
remorseless whir of the pursuing tanks. They were not
travelling quite as fast as they could run, but then machines
would not get tired. They pounded onward, casting anxious
glances to the rear. Liz realized that by heading for the pit
they were only bringing trouble with them, but there seemed
nowhere else to go.
After a few minutes, Dodgeson was gasping heavily and
falling behind. His thin, gangling frame was not suited for this
sort of activity. De Veer caught him under the arm.
‘Come on, Hubert!’ he panted encouragingly. ‘Chuck your
camera – it’s holding you back!’
‘Never!’ Dodgeson replied with spirit. But he was now
tottering. De Veer called out to the others:
‘Go on! We’ll try to slow them down. Lead them away
somewhere.’
Liz was terrified that she would never see the two again,
even though what they were doing made sense. She slowed
down enough to take the spare lantern from de Veer. ‘Take
care,’ she shouted, and she, Sternberg and the two sailors with
the tools and ladder stumbled on. As they turned the next bend
in the path they heard a ragged volley of rifle fire from behind
them. It made her want to run faster, so that she would be out
of earshot before the rifles fell silent.
Suddenly there were torch lights ahead of them, and Liz
heard someone calling her name. It was Mike Yates. As they
approached she saw in the dappled moonlight that he was
leading half a dozen UNIT soldiers, and the uniforms had
never seemed such a welcome sight before.
‘Back there...’ she panted, pointing, ‘Dodgeson and de
Veer...fighting sea tanks.’
‘We guessed you might have met more of them,’ Mike said
crisply. ‘You get along to the pit. We’ll deal with this.’ And
he led his squad on at a steady run, heading for the sounds of
sporadic gunfire.
Wearily, Liz, Sternberg and the two sailors plodded on.
Five minutes later red firelight pierced the trees and they
stumbled into the clearing, dominated by the giant as before.
As they did so, Benton sprang out from the cover of a tree and
ran anxiously forward.
‘Are you all right, Doctor Shaw?’
‘I hope so,’ she panted. ‘Perhaps the cavalry could arrange
to arrive a little sooner next time.’
‘We’ll do our best,’ he promised with a grin.
The two sailors had dropped the tool bag and the short
ladder with relief, and were recovering their breath while
goggling at the giant, as was Sternberg. Grover, Montgomery
and the Doctor clustered round them.
‘What are you doing here?’ Grover demanded of Sternberg.
‘And where are de Veer and Dodgeson?’
‘They stayed back, trying to slow the sea tanks down,’ Liz
explained.
‘Bully for them!’ Montgomery exclaimed.
‘Sergeant Yates and the soldiers went to help. I just hope
they’re in time.’
‘I’m sure they will be, Liz,’ the Doctor assured her, head
bent over the tool bag, checking the contents. ‘Good, we
should be able to manage with these. Now, when you’ve got
your breath back, we’ve got a repair job to do. And the sooner
the better.’
Mike headed for the sounds of battle echoing between the
looming trees. The shooting was already trailing off. How
much ammo had the two got with them, he wondered? There
came the first crackles of the tank’s electric whips. A coldness
struck at the pit of his stomach. Hell! They were too late!
Then an unexpected blaze of white light starkly illuminated
the trees ahead of them before winking out, temporarily
banishing the moonlit shadows. What was that? The tanks’
whirring motors became audible. There was another soundless
burst of brilliance, and a flurry of crackling electricity.
Suddenly they rounded the spreading roots of a huge tree and
almost fell over Dodgeson and de Veer, both very much alive,
sheltering in its hollows. Before them was a semi-circle of
five tanks zig-zagging about in apparent. confusion, colliding
with tree trunks and each other. Their whips were lashing out
at random, more often hitting another tank than anything else.
Even as they took in the odd scene, Dodgeson rapidly
changed the bulb in the reflector of his flashgun and fired it at
the tanks again, illuminating the scene with eye-searing
brilliance.
‘Grenades,’ ordered Mike, blinking purple spots from his
vision.
Under the subsequent hail of explosives, two tanks were
totally destroyed when their pressure spheres burst. One
clanked away with a grating of twisted track links, and the
other two retreated unsteadily back towards the sea. As the
last sounds of their engines faded away, Mike turned to the
two film makers, only to find them trembling from nervous
exhaustion and a mutual fit of hysterical laughter.
‘I tell you, Montgomery couldn’t have done anything finer
at his swashbuckling best,’ de Veer choked out, wiping his
eyes. ‘There we were, cornered and out of ammunition,
having done the heroic self-sacrifice bit, and Hubert says “at
least I’m going to get a good picture of them before we go”,
and pops one off.’
‘Well there was nothing else left do do,’ said Dodgeson
defensively.
‘Am I criticizing? Anyway, suddenly they’re all over the
place, as though they can’t see straight anymore.’
‘If their drivers come from the bottom of the ocean, they
can’t be used to bright light,’ said Mike. ‘Your flash probably
overloaded their filters.’
‘Whatever you say, Sergeant.’ He shook his head. ‘And I
wanted him to throw his camera away!’ He stood up and
helped Dodgeson to his feet. Suddenly the cameraman gave an
anguished groan.
‘Oh no! I forgot to take the lens cap off!’
Benton, patrolling the perimeter of the clearing, looked around
once more at the strange scene, shaking his head. This was all
getting decidedly weird. He wasn’t sure how he would ever
explain it to the Brigadier.
The giant was standing by the pit with the fire warming his
feet, Nancy Grover still clutched in his hand. Ferraro
continued to feed the fire, but worked like a zombie now.
They dare not interrupt him for fear of annoying Brokk,
though he was obviously close to collapse from sheer
exhaustion. This was one of the factors spurring the Doctor
on. The ladder from the yacht was now propped up against the
giant’s back with the Doctor half way up it, one long leg
hooked through the rungs, working intently on its life-support
pack. From the foot of the ladder Liz Shaw handed up tools
and occasionally got into technical arguments with him. To
one side, Montgomery was having a quiet smoke in between
taking nips from his hip flask. Farley, the soldier struck by the
electric whip, was lying down under a tree, still weak and
trembling and lucky to be alive. The shoulder of his uniform
had been burned through to the skin. On the edge of the
clearing, Grover and Sternberg were arguing. The words
drifted over to Benton as their tempers rose.
‘As soon as the Doctor is finished, you will hand over the
ampules,’ Grover said flatly.
‘We can say they were lost, or destroyed,’ Sternberg hissed
back. ‘How can it tell otherwise?’
‘Because the Doctor already promised to return them.’
‘The Doctor! Always now it is the Doctor! Has his word
suddenly become law?’
‘No, but he does talk a lot of sense. Maybe I should have
listened to him earlier.’
‘We had a dream, remember? To make your daughter, and
thousands like her, whole again. If we keep our nerve now,
that can still be realized.’
‘Look how many good men have already died chasing that
dream.’
‘Ach, most regrettable, naturally. But there are always
sacrifices to be made for the sake of progress –’
‘And Nancy, while she remains my wife, will not be
another of them! You will hand those ampules over, Professor
– or shall I have them taken from you by force?’
Sternberg sagged, muttering under his breath. ‘Enough!
Have it your way.’ He pulled the ampules from his pockets
and almost threw them at Grover, then stalked away. Grover
shook his head sadly at the scientist’s retreating back.
A couple of minutes later, to Benton’s relief, Mike and the
squad returned with Dodgeson and de Veer apparently safe
and well. Grover and Montgomery welcomed them back
warmly. Even as they were telling their story, the Doctor
snapped closed a panel in the giant’s life-support pack.
‘It’s finished,’ he announced loudly, sliding back down the
ladder to the ground.
All watched anxiously as the huge figure moved
experimentally away from the fire, checking a display panel
on its forearm. He saw Grover holding the ampules and
pointed commandingly. His eye pulsed.
‘He wants them now. And where is the case?’ Nancy
Grover translated.
‘Uh...back on the yacht...It was forgotten. Does it matter?’
‘No. Bring them as they are.’
Grover stepped forward. Brokk, holding Nancy like a rag
doll, reached out with her and she mechanically took the
ampules from her husband. With the other hand Brokk opened
the flap of his belt pouch, and Nancy placed them carefully
inside.
‘Please, let her go now,’ Grover called out.
‘When he has reached his ship,’ Nancy replied.
‘At least let this poor man free of your control,’ the Doctor
pleaded, pointing at Ferraro.
‘He has no need of him now,’ Nancy conceded.
The giant’s eye pulsed. Ferraro sank to his knees, looked
around him in a daze as though waking from a dream, then
toppled forward on to his face. Liz was beside him in an
instant together with Mike Yates, already pulling out his
emergency medical pack. Liz took a hypodermic from it and
started filling it, momentarily oblivious to her surroundings as
her professional instincts took over.
Brokk seemed to watch their activities curiously for a
moment, then turned away, striding off between the trees and
vanishing from sight, leaving a sudden void in the clearing
that his presence had dominated. For a minute, the steady
thump of his feet could be heard, then they faded away.
Mike looked around at the others, finally fixing on the
Doctor.
‘Well, what do we do now?’
‘We follow at a discreet distance, of course. And hope the
Semquess don’t interfere again before he reaches his ship.
Perhaps you’d better warn your men at the crater that he’s
coming and to keep out of his way.’
Benton pulled out his radio and called up Millar. ‘Listen,
don’t worry, but you’ve got a very large visitor heading your
way...’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Amelia, but I haven’t got the men to spare
anymore.’ Captain Pascoe looked tired but determined. ‘If this
ship is to be ready to sail before the deadline, that’s how it’s
got to be.’
‘But surely –’
‘No. Not after losing the beach guards as well. We’ll watch
for signals, but I’d have a mutiny on my hands if I ordered
another sailor to step on that island. They think the place is
jinxed, and I can’t say that I blame them.’
‘Then I’ll go myself.’
‘Your father was quite clear about that, Miss Amelia. You
stay here.’ He ran his fingers through his greying hair. ‘I’ve
got to think of the ship now. God knows, your father’s a friend
as well as my boss, but he’d understand. He and the others
knew the risk. We wait. That’s all we can do.’
A little while later, Amelia leant on the rail and stared out
across the glittering waters to the dark bulk of the island.
Since the loss of the beach guards and the disappearance of
Doctor Shaw’s party, they had heard occasional gunfire and
intermittent explosions from inland. Was it the sea tanks or
the giant they were fighting? Had they rescued Nancy and Mr
Ferraro? Was her father safe? All it needed now, she thought,
was for the shrieking bats to start up again and the crabs to
appear to make it an utter nightmare. Thankfully there was no
sign of them. Perhaps they were keeping out of sight, having
learnt their lesson. Or perhaps their natural instincts told them
that more dangerous creatures than themselves stalked the
island that night. Amelia shivered, but not from the coolness
of the air. She felt the pall of gloom and fear settle lower over
the ship, causing the men on watch to grip their rifles more
tightly and count the minutes until their departure. She held
her crucifix and gave up a prayer for the safe return of all
those presently out there in the darkness.
Amelia suddenly found Miss Ellis by her side, having
arrived in her usual quiet way. To her surprise, she was
offering her a glass of brandy.
‘Miss Ellis, you know I don’t –’
‘Tonight you need it, my dear,’ she said, gently but firmly.
‘You’ve been through so much, and waiting can be a terrible
time. I know, believe me. I waited during the war for...Well,
never mind. I’ve had a drink already, and I suggest you keep
me company. Please.’
Amelia hesitated, then took a sip. She coughed slightly, but
the spirit did warm her.
‘Remember,’ Miss Ellis added softly, ‘I worked for your
father before you were born. How do you think I feel right
now?’
Amelia reached out and squeezed her hand.
A waver in the mirage-like haze cloaking the island drew
her attention. It was flickering more erratically even than it
had seemed to on the first night, and at times it faded right
away, as though close to total dissolution. It was almost as
though it were dying. She looked out across the ocean with a
sudden acute sense of the inevitable mortality of all things.
Soon Salutua would no longer be a lost island. If the volcano
erupted as predicted, it would simply no longer exist.
Suddenly she gripped Miss Ellis’s arm hard.
‘Look! Out there beyond the reef.’
There was an upwelling in the ocean halfway to the
horizon. Spray glittered in the moonlight and phosphorescent
ripples shimmered through the disturbed waters. A huge grey
globe, perhaps four hundred feet across, broke the surface and
rose slowly and silently into the starry night sky.
Seventeen
‘T
hey’re expecting a what to arrive shortly?’ the
Brigadier exclaimed.
‘A giant, sir,’ replied Osgood, holding out the latest
message relayed from Davies. ‘The alien in the forest that
Sergeant Benton reported earlier is quite large, apparently.’
‘Really. And what’s it doing making for the volcano?’
‘It’s the pilot of the spaceship they found in the crater, sir,’
Osgood revealed, reading on. ‘It wants to get back to its craft
and take off as soon as possible. It’s carrying a woman
hostage with it.’
‘Good grief!’
‘But the Doctor is sure she will be freed unharmed if the,
er, giant is left alone.’
‘I should hope so. Well, I suppose we must be grateful that
it seems intent on leaving promptly rather than hanging
around to cause any more mischief,’ commented the Brigadier
with some acerbity. ‘All right, tell Davies to observe but not
to get involved.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And remind him to
be alert for any change in the volcano. There’s only two hours
left. He’s to be brought back through the moment it shows any
sign of increased activity, and we’ll have to initiate the
alternate retrieval plan for the others.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Bell entered the lab.
‘Thought you ought to know, sir. The disturbances,
whatever they are, have reached us now.’
Lethbridge-Stewart sighed. ‘I suppose it was inevitable,
though we seem to have been lucky so far. Give me the
reports.’
‘You can see it on television, sir. All the main channels are
putting out special bulletins. Actually, they’re now getting the
news in faster than government sources.’
‘Typical! All right, is that set in the corner working?’
It was a rather battered trolley mounted model, which the
Doctor appeared to have modified at some time in the past for
one of his experiments. However it still performed its more
mundane functions adequately, and the image of a newsreader
appeared as soon as it was switched on. He was evidently
beginning a roundup of events for viewers who had just tuned
in. Sheets of paper were scattered untidily across the desk
before him as he tried to keep up with the latest developments,
clearly improvising links as he went.
‘It is now just...er, a little over eighteen hours since the first
sightings of so-called unidentified flying objects were
reported on the West Coast of America. With them came a
rash of other peculiar incidents...’ A montage of film clips
flashed across the screen beside the newreader’s head,
showing UFOs, interviews with excited or frightened people
and blurred pictures of buildings and ghostly figures. ‘Since
then, the wave of similar sightings combined with further,
apparently “supernatural” activity, has spread steadily across
the globe, bringing with it a growing sense of panic and
confusion. Many accidents, including some fatalities, have
been reported, supposedly caused by mysterious apparitions...’
Images of crashed cars and burning houses flicked across the
screen. ‘Riots sparked off by these incidents have occurred in
several cities. No scientific explanation for the phenomena has
been forthcoming, and some of the more extreme religious
cults have claimed that these are signs of the end of the world,
or Judgement Day. But all the major religious leaders are
calling for calm, as are national governments. A special
session of the United Nations has been convened. Until now,
Britain seemed to have been spared, but within the last few
hours the phenomena reached our shores. UFOs have been
sighted over several parts of the country, and with them other
mysterious happenings. For our first report, we go to Lyn
Murray in Portsmouth.’
The scene shifted to show the reporter standing in a road lit
by the orange hue of street lamps and the reflections of
flashing blue lights. Behind her was the usual crowd of
curious onlookers, while beyond them were the tapes of a
police cordon. Lyn Murray looked earnest but slightly
breathless.
‘About a hundred yards down the road from where I’m
standing is the church of St Barnabas. It was built in the
nineteen fifties to replace the original building destroyed in
the war. But two hours ago, the entire building, together with
its adjoining hall and social centre, apparently vanished to be
replaced by, what appears to be, a ghostly replica of the
original old church and spire...’
The camera zoomed in over her shoulder to focus on a
shimmering spire, twinkling against the night sky. The body
of the church below was palely visible, suffused by a red glow
from its windows.
‘Older residents of the area confirm that it is the exact
likeness of the original church, and claim to have seen people
entering the building as though for a service. Police are
keeping the road sealed for the moment pending further
investigation, and are making no comment at this stage. So far
they are also making no comment about the apparent
disappearance of the local vicar, the Reverend Timothy
Andrew Knox, who was last seen in the new church hall
shortly before the...er, replica church appeared.’
The studio newsreader’s voice cut in.
‘That’s an extraordinary story, Lyn. And I understand there
have been other similar incidents locally?’
‘Yes, John. We have heard unconfirmed reports of
unknown ships being sighted in the harbour of the naval
dockyard just a few miles away. Buildings there are also said
to have changed, though this has not been officially
confirmed.’ Lyn Murray’s face paled under the artificial lights
and her composure seemed to slip a little. She took a deep
breath then pressed on. ‘However, we ourselves personally
witnessed what I can only describe as an apparition on our
way here. We were driving past the end of Queen Street,
which runs close to the dockyard, and there appeared to
be...well, a parade of ghosts marching along the street in
regular lines.’ She seemed embarrassed at what she had said
and hurried on. ‘Many other people saw them as well, and
indeed there were several minor accidents as a result of cars
swerving to avoid the figures...’
A recorded sequence was cut in: a shaky image showing a
jumble of cars scattered across the roadway, some having
crashed into railings, others with interlocked bumpers. A
number of people stood on the pavements, staring about in
confusion, while others were running away in apparent panic.
The camera swung around and tried to focus. Along the street,
passing through the stalled vehicles like wraiths, were indeed
fleeting images of marching figures, carrying what might have
been banners. There was an impression of uniformity of dress,
reminding Lethbridge-Stewart of a military parade. Then the
ghostly images wavered and faded from sight, leaving the
camera panning up and down the street, recording only the
startled faces of the onlookers.
‘As you can see,’ Lyn Murray’s strained voice continued
over the pictures, ‘we tried to film them, but the images were
blurred and did not come out very clearly. Since recording
that, we have heard of similar apparitions being seen in
Guildhall Square, which lies in the direction those figures
were moving. Whether the two sightings are connected we
cannot be sure. All I can say is, speaking personally, that there
was an undeniable sense of something being present that is
impossible to convey in words.’ She took another deep breath.
‘And also that it was the most frightening thing I’d ever seen!’
The studio newsreader cut in quickly. ‘Thank you, Lyn.
And...er, for our next report we go to –’
‘That’s enough, turn it off,’ the Brigadier said to Bell. ‘You
are recording all this?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well keep doing so and add the tapes to the other reports.
Let me know if something unusual happens. That is, more
unusual than what we’ve already seen.’
The men went back to their duties, but Lethbridge-Stewart
could sense the change in mood. The problem was coming too
close to home for comfort. But why had it taken so long? It
had reached Europe hours ago. Was it carried by something
that had only just arrived here, or had Britain some sort of
immunity that had resisted the advance? Of course, he always
privately thought Britain was special: the finest country in the
world and the most sensible people. Was innate levelheadedness a factor? No, that was hardly possible. These
apparitions could be recorded on camera, if only fleetingly.
They existed. Then what was the key? What?
The phone rang. It was Major General Scobie, UNIT’s
regular army liaison.
‘Yes, sir,’ the Brigadier confirmed, ‘we are
investigating...Exactly, getting too close for comfort
now...Glad to know we can call on the regulars when we need
them...What? Yes, the Doctor did do splendidly against the
Autons, didn’t he...And that nice Miss Shaw, yes...I am
getting them to work on it, sir, but they’ve, er, been out of the
country and still have a little way to go on their return
journey...Well nearly twelve thousand miles and forty years if
you must know!’
Brokk paused as the trees began to thin about the lower slopes
of the volcano. His electro-static sense had registered a
disturbance. He scanned the skies apprehensively, adjusting
the visual range for maximum receptivity. Yes, there it was, as
he feared. A Semquess globeship, much larger than the one he
had destroyed all those years before. At the moment it was
over the sea, but it was steadily spiralling closer. With his
cloaking field failing, it was inevitable that they should have
detected his hiding place eventually, but he had hoped for a
little more time. Shortly they would locate his ship in the
crater and that would be the end, for a vessel of that size
would totally outclass him. What bitter irony! A few dex, a
few centidex later, and he would have been safely gone. No,
that was not true. They had clearly waited all these years,
monitoring the planet for any sign of him. Even if he had been
revived earlier they would have detected his take-off and
intercepted him before he could make the jump into
hyperspace. Now he would simply never be allowed to leave
the planet’s atmosphere. How he had underestimated their
tenacity and patience! But what could he do? He looked at the
native female thrall who still hung placidly in his grasp. She
would be no protection from the Semquess. Even if he used
her as a lever with her own kind again, their weapons would
be useless against the globeship.
It was not in his nature to give up easily, but the Grold
were a pragmatic race. Brokk recognized the stark truth. The
Semquess would never rest now until they saw him die.
Liz felt she had spent entirely too many of the last 24 hours
tramping back and forth through the forest of Salutua.
Hopefully this would be the last time. At least Brokk’s trail
was easy to follow and, though they expected it at any
moment, there had been no interference from the island’s
native giant fauna. They had probably been scared away from
the path by the alien’s passage. Or so she hoped. The trail still
had its hazards, however.
‘Remind me again,’ she asked the Doctor reproachfully,
after he had carelessly let another low branch swing back in
her face for the third time. ‘Why we are marching towards a
volcano due to explode in a couple of hours?’
‘Can’t leave Nancy to find her own way home,’ interjected
Montgomery, panting but still pressing gamely on. ‘Even after
her performance this morning, it’s just not done.’
‘I know that,’ said Liz. ‘I mean now we’re in radio contact,
why can’t the soldiers at the crater collect Nancy once she’s
free, bring her back here through the time bridge, then pick us
up afterwards?’
The Doctor answered her brightly.
‘There’s plenty of time for the others to return to the yacht
with Mrs Grover if they don’t dawdle, and it would be simpler
for us to return through the portal where it is – save the
Brigadier the fuss of moving it. Then we can get on with
examining these strange sightings being reported. Did Benton
tell you about the latest ones?’
‘Doctor,’ Liz said suspiciously, ‘what aren’t you telling
me?’
The Doctor sighed. ‘According to Benton, the precision of
the portal manoeuvring controls still leaves something to be
desired.’
‘I thought going back up to full power solved that?’
‘Not entirely, it seems.’
‘Then what did the Brigadier plan to do if he couldn’t hold
it steady enough to pick us up beyond the crater?’
Benton spoke up. ‘Drop a message to say head for the
beach. He’s sure he can hit that. Well, somewhere along it,
anyway.’
‘But there must be almost five miles of beach fronting the
lagoon. Just how good is the manoeuvring control now?’
‘The Brig’s been doing very well with it,’ Benton said
loyally.
‘Exactly how well?’ Liz probed remorselessly.
In the flickering torchlight Benton looked uncomfortable.
‘He has got it to go up and down pretty smoothly.’
‘Oh wonderful!’ Liz retorted.
‘But the further away from the crater, the worse the
steering seems to get.’
‘But why on earth should that be?’
‘Search me, Miss.’
‘Of course.’ The Doctor suddenly sounded jubilant. ‘I
should have realized! The space–time location of the portal is
continually being stabilized by the omicron radiation trace it
followed back here. Which means it’s only fully controllable
in the vicinity of Brokk’s ship or directly above it.’
‘Well I suppose that makes sense,’ Liz agreed, then
frowned. ‘Hold on. The radiation trace emanates from a piece
of the ship found in the future, right? But the ship is still intact
at the moment and Brokk is going leave in it anytime now.
That means it’s going to be destroyed here soon, because it
already has been from our point of view – perhaps when the
volcano goes up!’
‘I wondered when you’d see that probability,’ said the
Doctor, with a smile. ‘And you’re absolutely correct, Liz.
Time and causality demand it. They’re always quite inflexible
in such cases. Well, almost always.’
Liz lowered her voice so that Grover, pressing on ahead of
them, would not hear. ‘But will Nancy be freed in time?’
‘According to the Brigadier’s report, she must be.’
‘Hallo,’ said Mike, raising his field glasses, ‘I can see him,
but not Mrs Grover.’
They had reached the lower slopes of the volcano and the
trees were thinning. Between them a moonlit stretch of
hillside and a section of crater rim was visible. Perhaps a
quarter of a mile away, the huge figure of Brokk could be seen
slowly plodding up towards the summit.
‘I’m sure of it,’ confirmed Mike. ‘Both his hands are
empty.’
‘What’s he done with her?’ Grover exclaimed anxiously.
‘He must have just put her down,’ de Veer said
reassuringly. ‘He realized he didn’t need her anymore and
wanted all his strength for climbing.’
‘Then we can now intercept him!’ Sternberg began.
‘Recover the ampules...’
‘Forget it, Professor,’ Grover said firmly. ‘That’s done
with. We find Nancy and get out of here.’ He began swinging
his torch around, calling out her name. The others joined in.
‘Spread out,’ ordered Mike. ‘She can’t be far.’
Even as he spoke, a faint, uncertain voice drifted out of the
darkness: ‘I...I’m over here...’
They followed the sound. A bewildered and bedraggled
looking Nancy was clinging to the branches in the fork of a
tree, fifteen feet off the ground. A UNIT soldier climbed up
on the shoulders of his comrades and the dazed actress was
gently helped down.
The Doctor looked at her intently in the torchlight. ‘Are
you all right now, Mrs Grover?’
‘Yes. thank you. He just dropped me in the tree...I’m quite
myself again.’ She bit her lip. ‘I remember everything.’
There was an awkward pause. Grover looked at her with
both relief and disappointment. Nancy hung her head. What a
change from the angry self-centred figure she had presented
just a few hours before, thought Liz. A shock can sometimes
work wonders.
‘Thank you for coming after me,’ Nancy continued in
muted tones. ‘I know I don’t deserve it. I’m sorry for
everything. If it hadn’t been for my interfering...Mr
Ferraro...is he all right?’
‘He’s exhausted, but he should recover,’ Liz explained.
‘They took him back to the yacht.’
‘Please don’t blame him. He was only doing it for me. I
thought the eye might be valuable, you see...’ She looked at
Sternberg. ‘It was really fine what you were trying to do for
Amelia, Professor. And I’ve lost it all for you –’
Millar’s voice spoke out of Benton’s radio. He listened for
a moment, then said aloud: ‘They’ve seen something in the
air. They think it’s another spaceship.’
Everybody craned their necks, peering up at the sky. Mike
suddenly said: ‘There it is.’
For a moment Liz could not see what he was pointing at.
Then she realized that a dark globe was occluding the stars,
reflecting a slowly waxing and waning crescent of moonlight
as it circled the island.
‘The Semquesss bringing up the big guns, I suppose,’ Mike
ventured.
‘Certainly looks like they’re getting ready for a
showdown,’ said Benton.
‘Of course,’ the Doctor said half to himself, then spoke
rapidly to Grover. ‘Things are happening faster than we
thought. I suggest your people start back to the yacht
immediately. Don’t worry about meeting any more sea tanks –
the survivors must have been picked up already by the mother
craft. You want to be as far away from here as possible before
the eruption.’
‘Right. Come on, let’s get going, everybody. Doctor,
you’re sure you can get away through this time bridge of
yours safely? Won’t that thing interfere with your plans?’
The Doctor was now looking buoyantly confident. ‘Not at
all. In fact I believe it will help solve certain technical
problems for us very shortly. Don’t worry. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye – and thanks.’
‘Say goodbye to Amelia for us,’ said Mike.
Grover, de Veer and Dodgeson set off briskly.
Montgomery gave her an ironic wave of farewell which
caused Liz to smile. Sternberg and Nancy followed close
behind, the latter still apologizing for the loss of the ampules.
Liz wondered fleetingly if some good might have come out of
it for one person at least, but she rapidly put such speculation
from her mind. They had more pressing concerns.
‘Just what did you mean by that last remark, Doctor?’ she
began, then realized Benton was back on the radio to Millar.
‘The Doctor says to withdraw everybody back through the
portal now. Inform the Brigadier he is to wait until eruption
begins, then pick us up half a mile from crater on edge of
forest, bearing...’ Mike held out his luminous compass for him
to see. ‘Bearing two one zero degrees. He should find portal
control has improved by then. Get moving! Benton out.’ He
telescoped down the radio aerial. ‘You’d better be right about
this, Doc.’
‘Right about what?’ Liz asked again.
The Doctor smiled. ‘Everything is working out as it should
be, Liz. We always knew what was going to happen, you see,
but not why. I was beginning to wonder about the lack of any
preliminary signs of an eruption. Well now I don’t think
there’ll be any, because it was never a natural event in the first
place.’
‘Oh...I’m beginning to understand now.’
The distant plodding shape of Brokk was nearing the crater
summit.
‘You mean his craft blows up, or is destroyed by the
Semquess ship and triggers the eruption?’ interpreted Mike.
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘But how does that help us with the problem of controlling
the portal? The end result’s the same either way. I don’t want
to spend my last moments hopping over lava flows while the
Brig tries to find us with dodgy steering.’
‘Ah, but consider what the consequences of the initial
explosion will be, Sergeant. Remember where the original
fragment of his craft was found...’
Understanding dawned. The atmosphere eased slightly.
Benton nodded towards the giant figure and the circling globe.
‘Surely he knows they’re up there waiting for him?’
‘Probably. Once he reaches his craft he may try
communicating with them – bargaining his life for the
remaining ampules. But I rather suspect he is going to fight.
I’m not familiar with his race personally, but I think it is all or
nothing with them.’
‘Whatever he does, we know how it’s going to end, don’t
we?’ said Mike, funereally.
Brokk passed over the crater rim and disappeared from
view.
Davies relayed the rest of the Doctor’s message to the
Brigadier personally, while he and the other crater guards
were still blinking in the bright lights of the laboratory.
‘He’s certain we should wait?’ the Brigadier asked.
‘Sounded most insistent, sir,’ Millar confirmed.
‘I suppose we’ve got no alternative but to follow his lead.
Stand ready, all of you. Osgood, watch the readings. Prepare
to move portal on my orders.’
To himself he thought: I hope you’ve got this right, Doctor.
Grover urged them on down through the forest towards the
beach at a brisk pace, determined they should not spend one
minute more on Salutua than they could help. He had learnt a
lesson here, albeit at a terrible cost. There were some things
money could not buy, and others that were not worth the price
you paid. He glanced back at de Veer and Dodgeson. He
hadn’t really played fair by them, yet they’d acquitted
themselves well. He’d have to make it up to them somehow.
And Montgomery, for all his faults, had remained cheerful
and surprisingly staunch in a crisis. Nancy he hardly dared
look at. It was too painful. He could never forgive what she
had said and done, and yet seeing her in the clutches of that
monster had taught him that affection, even if misguided and
betrayed, could not so easily be expunged. Parting officially –
and permanently – from Nancy would be an ordeal he
dreaded. And then there was Sternberg, whose dreams he had
been forced to shatter. What about...Where was he?
He looked around to find the scientist twenty yards behind
them.
‘Keep up, man!’
‘I am sorry,’ Sternberg panted, drawing level. ‘I had a
stone in my shoe. I had to remove it.’
‘Okay. Just be careful you don’t get left behind.’
‘I assure you, Mr Grover, that is not my intention.’ They
hurried on.
The globe had come to rest hovering perhaps two thousand
feet up, directly over the crater. The UNIT party watched it in
expectant silence. Long minutes passed without any sign of
activity. Liz wondered if negotiations were being conducted
even now between the two strange races, so different from
each other and human kind, linked only by those possibly
universal traits of acquisitiveness and retribution. She
reflected that one could hardly hold Nancy Grover’s failings
against her, when even such advanced races as these clearly
had not progressed beyond such behaviour.
Then there was a flicker of motion.
The sky over Salutua became clear and sharp for the first
time in over fifty years.
‘He’s turned off the cloaking field,’ said the Doctor. ‘A
symbolic act, perhaps?’
Brokk’s craft rose above the crater rim on fiercely glowing
thrusters, its dark hull almost invisible in the night. For a
moment it also hovered motionless, then it arrowed upward
directly towards the other craft. Fire flashed from its bow. The
Semquess globe rolled almost lazily to one side. A
scintillating rod of pure energy lashed out and struck the
smaller craft.
‘Cover your eyes!’ warned the Doctor.
There was a blaze of light.
Liz had been a little slow, and the afterimage of the
explosion floated across her retina. The sound of the blast
reached them as it washed across the island, the shock-wave
setting the leaves and branches of the upper canopy tossing.
From somewhere came the groan and splitting of wood as a
giant tree toppled. The air seemed to be filled with the zip and
screech of flying red-hot shrapnel, briefly illuminating the sky
like a blossoming meteor shower.
‘Thousands of fragments, each carrying a trace of omicron
radiation,’ said the Doctor, with grim satisfaction. ‘One of
those will reach the sea and turn up in a shark about forty
years from now, and the whole cycle will start again.’
A painfully bright object, like a tiny sun, could be seen
falling out of the sky where Brokk’s ship had been.
‘The ship’s power core,’ the Doctor explained.
The core dropped back into the crater and vanished. The
steady vapour plume of the volcano suddenly brightened and a
billow of vapour mushroomed skyward. The Semquess ship
dropped low down over the crater and hovered there for a
moment, as though viewing the remains. Apparently satisifed,
it rose into the night sky once more, steadily accelerating. As
they watched it dwindled to a point amongst the stars and was
gone.
There was another anticipatory silence, then Benton said:
‘Bit of an anticlimax, that. Aren’t there going to be any more
fireworks?’
‘Soon enough, Sergeant,’ the Doctor assured him. ‘When
that core burns its way down to the magma chambers under
the island, then you will see plenty of “fireworks”. At about
ten o’clock local time, just as the Brigadier warned us.’
‘Do you think those Semquess guessed that’s what’s going
to happen?’ Liz speculated.
‘Very likely,’ agreed the Doctor.
‘And they don’t care?’ exclaimed Mike.
‘From their point of view it is very convenient. They don’t
want anybody learning about their genetic mutation serums,
but this island has already been contaminated. Sufficiently
advanced techniques might reconstruct the serums. So it must
all be destroyed, and, ironically, Brokk has provided the tool
to do that for them. Call it a drastic form of copyright
safeguard.’
There was a distinct tremor underfoot that caused them to
stagger slightly. Smoke and steam began to boil out from the
cone of the volcano at an increasing rate, lit from below by a
brightening fiery glow.
‘I hope the Brigadier hurries up, then,’ said Mike.
‘He should have no trouble steering the portal now. With
fragments of the ship spread all over the place, the
stabilization effect should be equal across the whole island.’
‘You hope,’ said Liz.
‘I know,’ said the Doctor with a smile, pointing over her
shoulder.
A free floating disc of light was drifting between the trees
towards them. Through it they could see the lights of the
laboratory. At the controls of the time bridge stood a familiar
figure.
‘You’d think he’d look happier to see us,’ observed Liz.
Grover’s party ran the last quarter mile down through the
forest.
Already animals were fleeing the vicinity of the volcano,
whose fire-wreathed summit cast a ruddy glow over the entire
island. Birds fluttered squawking through the branches. A
solitary giant ant skittered across their path, confused and
purposeless. Crashes through the undergrowth about them told
of unseen beasts taking flight. Fortunately there was no sign
of the giant bats. Would they leave their roosts amongst the
great trees before the lava reached them? Either way, without
the power of flight, they were doomed.
The tremors were growing stronger by the time they burst
panting through the last line of palms on to the beach. Grover
flashed his torch out into the lagoon to where the Constitution
was now anchored, hoping that the sailors who had escorted
the exhausted Ferraro had made it back all right and passed on
his message. Apparently they had. In moments the lights of
the launch could be seen heading towards them. It slewed
about in the shallows in a wash of spray, and bobbed to a halt
without touching the sands. They waded out to it and piled
aboard without ceremony. The engine roared, throttle open
wide, and they swung about in an arc and headed out towards
the Constitution for the last time.
‘What an incredible sight!’ exclaimed Montgomery
looking back, voicing their unspoken thoughts.
The red light of the volcano glittered across the waters in
their wake. A steady fountain of fire now boiled about the
summit, and from it a plume of smoke towered thousands of
feet into the sky, spreading like a great dark fan, eclipsing the
stars and moon. Forks of lightning played about its inky
convolutions.
Then the launch grated against the Constitution’s pontoon,
and an urgent voice was calling down from above: ‘Captain
says cut the pontoon and launch loose – no time to take them
aboard!’ Even as he spoke they heard the clink and rattle of
the anchor chain being wound in, and the throbbing pulse of
the pistons reverberated through the hull. By the time they had
climbed the ladder to the deck the Constitution was under
way.
Amelia was waiting for them at the head of the companion
ladder and she threw herself into her father’s arms, sobbing
with relief. Standing beside her was Miss Ellis, who smiled
benevolently at them, and at Grover especially. Nancy looked
at father and daughter for a moment, then silently headed for
her cabin, head hung low as though to hide her face. Amelia
wiped her eyes and called after her, asking how she was, but
there was no response.
‘Never mind, Amy,’ Grover said. ‘Let her be for now.’
Sternberg did not hide his feelings so carefully. He scowled
in open disappointment at Grover, then stomped away
himself, hunched over, hands pushed into his pockets,
radiating high dudgeon. Amelia watched him go, frowning. ‘I
understand about Nancy, but I didn’t realize how badly the
Professor would take giving up the ampules.’
‘He’ll have to live with it, Amy. Maybe he can learn
something from the samples he’s already got, but somehow I
think it’ll be beyond him.’
‘And there’s certainly no going back after more, is there?’
she said simply.
‘Not now,’ he agreed.
Threads of lava could be seen running down the cone of the
volcano. Fires were already burning in the forest about its
flanks. Fresh tremors were sending shockwaves rippling
across the surface of the lagoon, causing fish to leap from the
water in alarm. A booming roar, like continuous thunder,
smote their ears as the yacht steamed on. They cleared the reef
almost before they knew it, the passage out from the calmer
waters at least being easier than their entrance had been.
Gradually Salutua began to drop away behind them, but
Pascoe maintained full-speed.
De Veer, Dodgeson and Montgomery leant on the stern
rail. They were tired and grimy from their exertions, but too
fascinated by the awesome spectacle of destruction to leave
their vantage point just yet. De Veer shook his head
regretfully.
‘The world will never know the picture they missed!’ he
said, raising his voice to be heard over the fulminations that
rumbled out over the ocean after them. ‘What a cast we had!
Volcanos, giant beasts, statue men from outer space and
creatures from under the sea...’
‘Not forgetting Michael Montgomery,’ Montgomery added
modestly.
‘And time travellers from the future,’ Dodgeson chipped
in. ‘I sure hope they got away safely.’
‘Still, we’ve got some story to tell,’ said Montgomery. ‘I’m
going to dine out on this for months.’
‘But who’s going to believe it all? Where’s the proof?’ de
Veer said.
‘We’ve got some film – and Professor Sternberg’s
samples,’ Dodgeson pointed out.
‘And my giant ant head,’ Montgomery said proudly. ‘Wait
till I get that stuffed and mounted!’
De Veer shook his head. ‘Won’t be enough. We need the
island to clinch it – and look at it!’
‘Won’t anything survive?’
‘A few of those crabs maybe, but who knows? Perhaps
they needed the island for special food, or something, and will
start shrinking again after it’s gone.’
‘What had they got against the bats anyway?’ Montgomery
wondered. ‘That shindy of theirs almost looked like a regular
match.’
‘I guess we’ll never know now,’ said Dodgeson.
There was a massive explosion that lit up the sky. The
whole island seemed to be on fire. The sound of the blast
when it reached the ship made them cover their ears and flinch
aside by reflex. That single outpouring of raw sound seemed
to last for minutes before slowly fading away. When they
looked again the island had vanished in a pall of steam and
smoke. Out of this rolled a huge continuous wave, flashing in
the moonlight, breaking over the reef and surging out into the
open ocean towards them, reaching steadily out to the horizon
on either side.
A shout came down from the bridge: ‘Everybody put on
your life jackets and hang on. We’re going to ride it out!’
As they sprang to the lockers, the Constitution swung about
until its prow faced into the tidal wave. The note of the
engines dropped until it just held its way. The wall of water
bore inexorably down upon the ship out of the night. They
were over the deeps now, and that had robbed it of something
of its power, but even so it was still 25 feet high.
It struck the Constitution squarely with a shock that
reverberated from stem to stern, bursting across the prow with
a boom and roar, throwing up a cloud of spray, lifting the ship
as though trying to upend it bodily, yanking their arms in their
sockets as it tried to break their holds and send them sliding
aftward. The yacht bucked like a roller coaster car, and then
snatched the decks away from under their feet as they were
over the crest and plunging sickeningly forward, with the
propeller thrashing in open air. The prow burrowed into the
water, sending up a second gout of spray, and seemed intent
on dragging the whole ship after it into the deeps. Then,
slowly, it lifted. The fore decks were awash, water running in
torrents across them and pouring over the sides. As the load
was discharged, the Constitution rolled and bobbed, then
found an even keel. Behind them the tidal wave rolled on out
into the Pacific, to be absorbed by all its thousands of miles
until it was just another ripple in the eternal swell.
Slowly they found their feet, glad to be alive. Anxious
enquiries revealed everybody was safe, and, bar a few sprung
plates, so was the ship.
Montgomery summed it up succinctly. ‘Well, fellows,
looks like it’s back to the studio for us. Anyone want a drink?’
The Doctor beamed with satisfaction as they saw the tiny
image of the Constitution within the visualizer coil turn for
home. He began powering down the system, then glanced
apologetically at the Brigadier.
‘Sorry about that, old chap, but we had to see they got
away safely, you understand.’
The Brigadier’s moustache bristled, as though he was about
to express himself forcefully on a matter currently close to his
heart. Benton and Yates, standing close beside him, winced
visibly in anticipation. Noting this and guessing the likely
objects of his ire, Liz said quickly: ‘But we must compliment
you on how well you managed while we were gone, mustn’t
we, Doctor?’
‘What? Oh, yes, absolutely. You really did splendidly, my
dear fellow. Operating all the equipment like that. Could
hardly have done better ourselves, could we Liz?’
‘I’m sure we couldn’t. And it was such a comfort knowing
you were here, working so hard to get everything fixed
properly –’
‘Enough!’ said the Brigadier. There was a respectful
silence. He glowered at the two scientists for a moment, then,
with a visible effort of will, continued on calmly. ‘We will
discuss the matter of your recent exploits at a more suitable
time. For the moment you are to concern yourselves
exclusively with explaining these UFO sightings and
apparitions we’ve been plagued with.’ He pointed to a side
table stacked with reports and video cassettes. ‘There is all the
available information. I expect your preliminary appraisal and
recommendations in one hour.’
‘Don’t we even get a chance to clean up and have a bite to
eat first?’ exclaimed Liz.
‘No, Miss Shaw,’ the Brigadier replied, with what she
thought was a hint of righteous satisfaction, ‘you do not.
Because your galavanting through time has left none to spare.
Tea and sandwiches will be brought in, but you will both get
straight to work on the current problem. The situation is
rapidly getting out of hand and before worldwide panic sets in
UNIT must supply some answers. The Prime Minister and the
Secretary General expect it of us, and I expect it of you. Do I
make myself perfectly clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ replied Liz, in a meek voice. When he chose,
the Brigadier could be rather overpowering, she realized. And
also very right.
‘Quite so,’ said the Doctor, with disarming reasonableness.
‘You leave it to us, Lethbridge-Stewart.’ Abandoning the time
bridge controls, he picked a report off the top of the pile and
began reading it with a great show of total concentration. Liz
quickly joined him in his studies.
The Brigadier surveyed them both with satisfaction, and
turned to Yates and Benton.
‘You’d better check the motor pool and see that all vehicles
are ready for use. Chances are we’ll have to examine one of
these “mirages” ourselves shortly, to get some first hand
information. Leave room for the technical gear, and –’
The laboratory lights flickered, then went off.
There was a moment’s black silence, then the emergency
generator started up automatically and the fluorescent tubes
popped and flickered back on again.
‘That’s all we need,’ exclaimed the Brigadier. ‘Better
check if it’s a mains failure.’
‘It’s all dark outside, sir,’ said Mike, who was looking out
through the laboratory’s tall, uncurtained windows. ‘Wait a
minute – I can see some lights now.’
‘Perhaps it’s us then. Get maintenance on to it right away.’
Mike was still staring out of the window. ‘That’s odd. The
lights aren’t where they should be.’
The dull surprise in his voice was so arresting that
everybody turned to stare at him, then at the window.
‘Somebody turn the room lights off again,’ the Doctor said
in carefully measured tones. The tubes blinked out, and they
crowded up to the windows. Ranged about them in the
darkness, glowing faintly at first but growing stronger by the
second, was a complex, misty checker-work of city lights.
But they were not the lights of the London that they knew.
Eighteen
S
ternberg bolted the door of his laboratory cabin, muting
the rumblings of the distant eruption, and sat down on a
stool, trembling with relief. He was certain he had made it
here without arousing suspicion. They all thought they had
seen a resentful man running to his cabin to hide, perhaps to
avoid witnessing the destruction of the island that had been so
crucial to his plans, unaware that Salutua mattered nothing to
him anymore.
They had failed him. So they would not share in the
triumph that was to come. That was only natural.
With great care, he pulled the two remaining ampules from
his pockets and laid them on the worktable before him, gazing
at them almost reverently. Eventually he dragged his eyes
away to glance at the clock mounted on the bulkhead.
Patience, he counselled himself. He must have patience. It
would be necessary to wait a little while longer for their
secrets to be revealed.
Nancy Grover’s manner when she spoke to her maid was so
untypical that it left the girl, who had worked for her for three
years, quite speechless.
‘Please give me a few moments alone, Tilly,’ Nancy said
gently, with a sad, brave smile. ‘You do understand? Thank
you.’
The door was closed and locked, leaving the maid standing
in the corridor.
Nancy turned and saw her reflection in the dresser mirror.
Her expensive dress was torn and grimy, still damp from
wading out to the launch. Her shoes were ruined, her hair a
tangled mess and her face smudged. But more than that, the
life seemed to have been drawn out of her. Her shoulders
sagged and her eyes were no longer keen and challenging, but
dull and downcast. She stood with the weight of guilt and
shame for her selfishness hanging heavily on her shoulders for
all to see and, perhaps, even to pity.
Nancy straightened up and smiled knowingly at herself.
Nobody ever really gave her proper credit for her acting
ability.
Briskly she pulled off her dress and threw it aside. A strip
from the bottom of her slip had been torn off, folded over to
form a long tube of material, and tied about her waist. She
undid the makeshift pouch carefully, taking care not to spill
what was wrapped within it, and tucked it away under her
clothes in a bottom drawer.
There was some shouting from above, the engine note
changed, and the ship began to turn. Tilly was suddenly at the
door again, knocking urgently.
‘Mrs Grover? The Captain says to put on life jackets.
There’s a big wave coming.’
‘Thank you, Tilly,’ she replied easily. ‘You put on your
jacket like he says. I’ll be perfectly all right here, don’t
worry.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ came the uncertain reply.
A minute later the wave hit, pitching the cabin about
wildly, sending loose items flying off the dresser and side
table. Nancy held firmly on to the head of the bolted-down
bed with a slight smile on her lips. Actually she found the
motion rather exhilarating, because she felt no self-doubt or
fear anymore; her plans left no room either for these, or even
for admitting the possibility that a mere tidal wave could upset
them. There came a distant crashing of glassware. The galley
or the saloon bar? No, Sternberg’s laboratory, of course. Her
smile deepened. Well, that didn’t matter now, and the tidying
up would keep the man occupied for a while.
When the ship had settled, she unlocked the door and rang
for Tilly. By the time her slightly green-faced maid arrived,
she had put on a robe.
‘Please run a bath for me, would you, Tilly?’ she asked
with sweet composure, much to the girl’s continuing
amazement.
‘Yes, ma’am. Er, are you quite all right, ma’am?’
‘Oh, I’m perfectly fine, Tilly. Apart from being rather
dirty.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll start your bath right away.’
Inwardly Nancy smiled as she watched her go. She would
need to play the part for a little while yet, but how long?
Allow an hour for freshening up and food, say, and another
for the excitement to wear down and natural exhaustion to set
in. Then most of the ship’s company and crew would be
asleep. And then it would be time to begin.
Nineteen
O
ddly enough, it was the absence of ordinary street lights
that Liz noticed first.
Even through the shifting curtain of misty haze she realized
that the familiar orange-yellow sodium vapour standards had
gone. Instead, on either side down the length of the street the
curbing was glowing a soft blue, while the centre was marked
by a row of luminous, red rectangular dashes. Along the
middle of the traffic lanes, spaced every ten yards or so, were
broad arrowheads in glowing green, presumably indicating the
direction of traffic flow. It took another moment to register
that the directions were reversed from normal. Directly
opposite them, however, the colourful luminous road
markings seemed to fade out, as though the shimmering
curtain was not as close in that direction – no nearer than the
far side of the street. On this side of the curtain a stretch of
ordinary dark tarmac could be seen.
Still trying to take in the transformation, Liz raised her
eyes. The few lighted windows visible in the building opposite
seemed much as normal, but just what was that beyond it?
Suddenly the patterns of lights over the rooftops resolved into
recognizable forms and a sense of perspective asserted itself.
She was looking up at a city of skyscrapers, far taller than any
other structures ever erected in Central London, dwarfing the
UNIT building and its surroundings. She felt overawed. What
was worse, the image seemed disturbingly familiar at the same
time, and it took a second to realize where she had seen its
like before. It was in a tinted version of the classic twenties
black and white silent film Metropolis. The city of the title
also had soaring towers with aerial bridges and roadways
slung between them, spanning the concrete and glass canyons
formed by their stepped sides. There was the same Art Deco
feel to the sculpted forms around her now. She remembered
that the model sets depicted biplanes flying gracefully, if
improbably, between the great buildings, even as she saw that
there were lights moving in the sky between these buildings as
well. However, though the fuzziness of the scene made it hard
to identify the craft, she was certain these were not biplanes.
The Brigadier finally found his tongue.
‘Good grief! It’s those mirages – they’re all around us!’
‘No, Brigadier,’ the Doctor said solemnly, ‘I suspect these
are more than simple illusions. That is the world outside.’
Liz gulped and tried to speak calmly and rationally in the
void the Doctor’s pronouncement had left.
‘It’s not a parallel world is it, Doctor? Like the one you
travelled to during the Inferno project? Has some sort of
dimensional barrier come down, bit by bit? That would
explain the so-called mirages and other sightings.’
‘No, Liz. You might open up short-lived transdimensional
wormholes between timelines, but never anything like this.
This is still our timeline, just slightly altered.’
‘Slightly!’ exclaimed the Brigadier.
‘But something similar, then?’ Liz persisted. ‘We’ve just
been back in the past. Suppose we accidentally changed the
course of history and time itself.’
‘But we know we didn’t. Everything ended as the records
and the evidence showed it should. Besides, if an alternate
timeline had rewritten this one due to our actions in the past,
then any changes here would have occurred instantaneously
the moment we went back, and all knowledge of the
intervening years would have been wiped out because it
would never have existed in the first place. Whereas these
sightings and other manifestations have been occurring for
almost a day, correct Brigadier?’
‘Almost, counting from the first reports.’
‘There you are. Time is involved somehow, obviously, but
there’s more to what’s happened than a simple retroactive
temporal re-adjustment in response to our recent journey.’
The Brigadier looked askance at the Doctor’s casual words.
‘Then all that out there is definitely real?’ said Mike. ‘Only
it looks so blurred and misty.’
‘That may be a purely local condition intervening,’ the
Doctor replied, still peering intently at the incredible scene
and frowning. ‘It’s real enough, but there’s some other factor
here that we haven’t taken into account. If I can have a
moment to think –’
The laboratory door banged open and made them all start.
It was Corporal Bell.
‘Sir, communications are down. Can’t get anything but
static...’ she trailed off as she saw the view through the
windows.
‘Thank you, Corporal,’ the Brigadier said quickly.
‘Something’s happened outside, as you can see, but we’re not
sure what yet. Keep monitoring and stay alert. Benton, better
issue arms to all personnel. It seems deserted outside at the
moment, but we must be –’
There was the sound of running feet outside and Farley
burst into the darkened laboratory. His tunic was missing and
a half-tied bandage flapped from his injured shoulder.
‘They’re gone!’ he blurted out, voice cracking. ‘They’re all
gone! It went dark, then the lights came on and –’
‘Farley!’ the Brigadier snapped. ‘Pull yourself together,
man! Explain clearly what’s happened.’
‘Sir!’ Farley stood to attention, though still visibly shaken.
‘I was downstairs in the sickbay getting treated, and the medic
had almost done when the lights went off for a moment.
And...’
‘Well?’
‘When they came back on again, the medic and all the
furniture in the other half of the room – they weren’t there any
more, sir!’
‘What?’
‘Just a sort of dark mist, with the walls showing through it
beyond – like it was an empty room on the other side. And
then I ran out into the corridor, and the end of that had gone
the same way, and the rest of the squad were down there. I
called out, but there was no answer!’
For a moment there was a stunned silence, then Mike said:
‘It sounds a bit like what we can see outside.’
‘Precisely.’ The Doctor pressed up close to the window,
looking left and right. ‘Yes, you can see that the boundary line
curves in towards the frontage on either side of us.’
‘You mean,’ said the Brigadier slowly, ‘that it’s inside the
building already. We’re in the middle and completely
surrounded by whatever it is?’
‘But that’s almost like we’re in the middle of a bubble,
with the centre in here,’ said Liz. ‘In the lab itself I mean.
What’s so special about...Oh, the time bridge.’ She crossed
quickly to the control console. ‘Doctor, it’s still on! The
rheostat control is not quite on zero. There’s a little power still
trickling into the system.’
The Doctor was beside her in two strides, examining the
controls in turn. ‘You’re right, Liz. I didn’t quite finish
powering down, did I? You interrupted me, LethbridgeStewart, if you recall. But perhaps fortuitously in this case.’
‘Do you mean the bridge is somehow protecting us from
the effects of these mirages?’ the Brigadier asked. ‘Like a
shield from some sort of external force?’
‘It seems a strong possibility.’ He pondered for a moment.
‘Didn’t you mention earlier that Britain was the last country to
be affected by these phenomena.’
‘Yes it was. You mean the bridge has been protecting the
whole country!’
‘Or at least slowing down the process. Turning it off – or
nearly so – when we finally returned, may have allowed a
sudden advancement of the changes we can see around us.’ As
he spoke he carefully increased the power to the bridge
slightly. ‘It would probably be best if the power stayed on for
the time being, I think.’ Nobody disagreed. He crossed to an
equipment shelf and picked up a radiation detector and an
electromagnetic sensor.
‘But what’s happened to everybody who was caught on the
outside when this thing formed? Are they gone for good?’ The
Brigadier’s face set like stone. ‘Doctor, are we...the only ones
left from our...proper time, in the country...the world?’
The sudden appreciation of the situation clutched at their
hearts. The enormity of it was almost too much to take in, Liz
felt. Perhaps that was fortunate.
‘It is a possibility,’ the Doctor agreed solemnly, his steady
gaze passing over each of them in turn. ‘It may also be
possible to restore normality again, but I won’t know for sure
until I gather further information. Which is why I must
examine that interface, and conveniently we don’t even have
to leave the building to do so. Coming, Liz?’
‘Right with you, Doctor,’ she replied, trying to sound
businesslike.
‘Just a minute,’ said the Brigadier, recovering his
composure and authority. ‘We must proceed sensibly if our
manpower is – limited. Farley and I will go with the Doctor
and Miss Shaw. Yates, you and Benton go in the other
direction to confirm this...thing –’
‘Interface,’ reminded the Doctor helpfully.
‘This “interface” is there as well, and exactly how far it
reaches into the building.’
‘Don’t get too close to it,’ the Doctor warned them. ‘We
don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with yet.’
‘You mean it might be dangerous?’ asked Mike
uncertainly.
‘Not in itself, perhaps. But it marks a boundary of some
sort, and perhaps different rules apply on the other side. So
until we know what they are...’
‘Yes, go carefully,’ the Brigadier emphasized. ‘Round up
anybody else you can find and send them up here, as it seems
the most central place. Also check the armoury is still
accessible, and bring along any kit that might be useful. Bell,
keep listening out for anything on the radio. Who’s on duty
with you?’
‘Parkinson, sir.’
‘Well brief him as to what’s going on. Otherwise just get
on with your jobs, but stay alert.’
‘Understood, sir.’ Bell left.
‘Osgood?’
‘Sir?’
‘You stay here, keep a watch at the window and note
anything else that happens outside.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Osgood, clearly feeling he had a task well
within his scope.
The Brigadier turned to Farley. ‘Right, Private. Lead the
way.’
The interface was as Farley described it.
A shimmering wall of thin mist with blackness beyond it,
angled across the lower corridor, and slightly tilted to the
perpendicular. Looking carefully you could see that the lines
of the corridor continued past the intangible curtain, but that it
was simply not lit as was this side. Liz thought she saw
rubbish scattered across the distant floor. She and the Doctor
cautiously held out the detectors and examined the readings,
while the Brigadier and Farley looked on impatiently.
‘Well it doesn’t seem to be active in any way we can
detect,’ the Doctor announced at last.
‘Then what the blazes is it?’
‘Simply a division between here and there, between two
different states of being, as it were. Like the boundary
between oil and water in the same jar – no existence in itself,
merely a surface tension effect within each fluid.’
Liz had been watching the interface closely where it
touched the wall. ‘Doctor, I think it’s moving.’
‘Ah, I was afraid of that. We’d better see how fast.’ He
fished in his pockets to find a pencil, and made a mark on the
wall just in front of the shimmering line. As they watched,
silently and inexorably the interface crawled up to it.
‘Hmm, about an inch in ten seconds. Which means a foot
every two minutes, thirty feet an hour. Assuming the rate is
constant.’
‘Then it’s closing in on us.’
‘Yes.’
‘And when there’s no room left...Can we pass through it, or
will we cease to exist as well?’
‘Only one way to find out,’ said the Doctor.
He thrust his arm through the interface.
From the laboratory window, Osgood saw the dark, squat six
and eight wheeled vehicles appear at both ends of the street
almost simultaneously. Their heavily moulded, streamlined
forms reminded him slightly of classic American aerodynamic
automobile styling of the fifties. Hatches opened and teams of
dark blue-uniformed men began to disembark in a purposeful
manner that suggested they were either military or police,
though he could not see enough details at this distance to be
sure. Should he warn the Brigadier now? No, watch a little
longer to see what they did first.
While some began erecting barriers across the street, others
grouped about the curving perimeter of the interface to stare
up at the UNIT building, gesturing to each other. One touched
the shimmering curtain cautiously. Obviously it was just as
much a puzzle to them, Osgood realized, as the mirages had
been to us. The idea cheered him. If other people were as
baffled as he was about what was going on, he wouldn’t feel
quite so left out of things. And while they were content simply
to observe and scratch their heads, he was happy to watch
them in turn.
Unfortunately this status quo did not last long.
Outside, squads were forming up and setting off at a trot,
disappearing out of sight down the passageways on either side
of the building. And by now Osgood was fairly sure they were
carrying weapons of some kind.
This, he thought, would be a good time to warn the
Brigadier.
Yates and Benton returned just as the Doctor withdrew his
arm from the interface.
‘You shouldn’t have taken the risk!’ Liz scolded.
‘Not all that risky,’ the Doctor admitted with a slight smile.
‘I waited until the pencil mark I made on the wall became
visible on the other side of the interface. If graphite could pass
through, it seemed reasonable that I could as well.’
‘Did you feel anything?’
‘A slight tingle, nothing more. I think it’s safe to
investigate further.’
‘Just a minute, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier, turning to
Benton and Yates.
‘There’s no one else, sir,’ Mike reported flatly. ‘There
aren’t many people around at this time of night anyway, and
the rest of the time bridge squad must have been down in their
quarters or the showers – all in places beyond the radius of
this... interface, when it appeared. Bell, Parkinson, Osgood
and ourselves are all that’s left.’
The Brigadier looked disappointed but steadfast. ‘We’ll
just have to manage with what we’ve got, then. At least
you’ve found some armaments, I see.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Benton, as the two sergeants began
unslinging the extra guns, radios, torches, pouches of spare
magazines and bandoliers of grenade-festooned webbing they
were carrying. ‘Armoury’s still there, as well as the stores,
generator room and a slice of the car park. Pretty dark beyond
that, though.’ He nodded at the interface. ‘This thing seems a
bit closer down there.’
‘It is all round us, then?’ asked Liz.
‘Yes, miss. Goes right through every room and corridor
down the other end. Dead spooky it is, too.’
‘I agree with your sentiment, Benton,’ said the Brigadier,
buckling on an extra belt hung with grenades and a magazine
pouch, then picking up a machine-gun. ‘Nevertheless we shall
have to put up with it. Our next step must be to make a
reconnaissance beyond the interface. We cannot plan a
strategy without intelligence on what we’re dealing with out
there. Agreed, Doctor?’
‘Perfectly, Brigadier.’ He looked on with slight reproach as
the Brigadier checked his grenades. ‘Though there’s no reason
to suppose the inhabitants of this timeline are hostile, you
know.’
‘Can you guarantee that, Doctor?’ the Brigadier replied
sharply.
The Doctor sighed. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘Exactly. We’ll go prepared just in case, then. Believe me,
I’m not looking for any more trouble than we have already.
Benton, you come with us. Farley and Yates stay here.
Sergeant, you’ll be in command if I do not return.’
Mike nodded grimly. Liz started forward.
‘No, Miss Shaw, you stay as well.’
‘But –’
‘Common sense, Miss Shaw. I will not risk both members
of my science team. If we do not return, it will be up to you to
provide Sergeant Yates with whatever technical support he
requires in whatever action he may see fit to take. Is that
understood?’
‘Yes, Brigadier,’ she replied simply. He was making a
habit of being very right, she decided.
‘Good.’ He turned back to Mike. ‘We’ll be no more than
half an hour. Radio checks every five minutes. If we lose
contact, don’t come after us. Right, let’s be off.’
He braced himself and stepped through the interface. For
all their differences in the past, Liz suddenly realized how
terrible it would be to lose him. He was a brave man doing his
duty regardless of circumstance, and there were not many
such people about. The Doctor followed him, and Benton
gingerly brought up the rear. All three seemed unharmed by
the passage. They saw the Brigadier speaking, but could hear
nothing. He extended the aerial on his personal radio,
motioning for Mike to do the same. There was no contact.
‘Just like the portal,’ said Mike. He gave his set to Farley.
‘Hop through and be ready to relay any messages. I’ll stay this
side and relay the other way.’
‘Yes, Sarge,’ said Farley, slinging his gun and stepping
through the interface with obvious reluctance. He held a brief
conversation with the Brigadier on the other side, then the
reconnaissance party set off cautiously along the corridor.
They watched them disappear from sight, then Mike turned to
Liz.
‘Better go back to the lab for a while,’ he suggested.
‘Maybe you can think of something to do with all that gear
you’ve got there, because I think our military options are
getting rather limited at this point,’ he added with a tight wry
smile.
She found his frankness rather disturbing. What were they
to do? She nodded simply and walked back towards the
laboratory, realizing how tired she was. Too many shocks and
too little sleep over the last 36 hours. She’d thought the worst
of the surprises were behind her when she returned through
the time bridge, but really they were only just warming up for
the start of the main event. Or the finish. For good. The
universe could be a very unfair place, she decided.
Halfway up the stairs she met Osgood coming down at a
run.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think we’ve got visitors coming...must warn the
Brigadier.’
‘He’s just gone through the interface to explore the rest of
the building.’
‘Oh hell –’
They ran back down the corridor to Mike. Osgood gabbled
out what he’d seen from the window. Mike stepped through
the interface to speak to Farley, who put the radio to his lips
and started speaking. As he did so, Liz heard a slight sound
and spun round.
The door at her elbow, which led into the supposedly
empty sickbay that Farley had vacated in panic not long
before, was opening.
Benton found it unnerving to explore the length of the dark
and dirty corridor and look into the rubbish-choked rooms,
dimly lit by the diffuse light radiating from the skyscrapers
shining through the grimy windows. Obviously the building
on the other side of the interface had been unused for some
time. Bar an unexpected additional door here and blank wall
there, the layout was familiar but also depressingly different
from the busy, purposeful place he had known only hours
before. Functions also seemed to have changed. The room
they were in now had been the ablutions, but all traces of
shower stalls and associated plumbing were gone as though
they had never existed. Perhaps, here, wherever it was, they
never had. His faint hope that they might find the missing men
withered away rapidly.
The Brigadier kept them moving briskly.
‘Let’s see if the street doors are where they should be, and
take a look outside.’
Then the radio crackled with Farley’s voice.
‘Osgood’s seen what he thinks are soldiers entering the
building on either side, sir,’ he reported. ‘Sergeant Yates says
to watch out –’ There was a sudden exclamation, then: ‘We’re
being attacked!’
The radio went dead.
Together they sprinted back the way they had come,
rounded the corner and collided with a squad of six men in
dark blue uniforms.
Surprise and the confines of the corridor saved them.
There was not time to use their weapons except as clubs,
because they were instantly engaged in hand-to-hand combat,
and anybody on either side who had fired at that moment
would have run as much risk of hitting a friend as a foe.
Benton drove the butt of his gun into the pit of one man’s
stomach, twisted about, and punched it up into the jaw of a
second by pure reflex, sending the man’s heavy helmet flying
from his head. Then he drove back down again on to the neck
of the man still in the process of doubling over from his first
blow, dropping him to the floor. Only then could he step back
and level his gun, but by then the melee was over. It had
lasted less than five seconds. The Brigadier was ably
demonstrating that he had forgotten none of his early training
as he felled the second of his opponents with a chop to the
neck, while the Doctor’s unique brand of unearthly martial
arts had clearly despatched his adversaries almost before they
had time to realize they were in a fight.
But even as they caught their breath, there came the sound
of many pairs of boots pounding out of the darkness at the end
of the corridor.
‘Keep going!’ the Brigadier shouted, and they dashed on.
The footfalls sounded louder behind them. Benton twisted
round and fired a burst from his gun down the corridor to
discourage the pursuit. Bullets ricocheted satisfactorily from
walls and ceiling. They saw the place where the interface
crossed the corridor, and dimly through it the shapes of
struggling figures. Bodies lay on the ground on both sides of
the misty curtain.
With a shrill whine, a pale blue beam lashed out of the
darkness behind them. Where it struck the peeling brickwork
of the wall, the whitewash scorched and flakes of brick flew
away as though a pneumatic drill were driving into it. The
beam swung sideways even as the Brigadier pulled the pin
from a grenade and tossed it back down the corridor. It
detonated as they dived through the interface. The echoes of
the explosion abruptly vanished. An attenuated blue beam
glimmered through the interface to play feebly across
Benton’s back as he twisted aside. There was no pain. It was
suddenly no warmer than a sunbeam.
Osgood was slumped against the wall with blood trickling
down his face. Mike was wrestling on the floor with a blue
jacketed figure, while two more of them were sprawled beside
him. The Brigadier lunged forward to help.
‘No, wait!’ the Doctor commanded. ‘Look!’
Even as he spoke, the “bluejacket” began to grow faint.
Mike gasped as his fingers suddenly closed through the body
of his opponent as though it were turning into softening jelly.
Then he was clutching at a wraith, then a shadow, then
nothing. The unconscious bodies on the floor vanished even as
they watched. As the Brigadier helped a dazed Mike up from
the floor, Bell and Parkinson pounded down the corridor from
the other end of the building.
‘There were soldiers, sir,’ Bell gasped, wide-eyed. ‘But
they just disappeared...’
‘We know. Watch the corridor. Shoot anybody who shows
themself.’ He turned back to Mike. ‘What happened, Yates?’
‘They came through the sickbay, sir. Don’t know how they
got in there...No warning, tried to grab me, but blazed away at
the others...’ He looked around. ‘Where’s Farley – and Miss
Shaw!’
There was a groan from the sickbay. The Doctor plunged
through the doorway with the others behind him. Farley was
struggling to his feet, holding his stomach tenderly, then
pulling his hands away as though he expected to see blood or
worse. He looked up at them in wonderment.
‘They shot me,’ he gasped, ‘but now there’s nothing there!’
‘Never mind that now,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘Where’s
Liz?’
Farley pointed through the interface that divided the room
in half to a door in the far wall, which had not existed an hour
before.
‘Sorry, I tried to stop them...They took her, Doc. Through
there.’
A frightened and furious Liz was carried rapidly out of a side
entrance, past what seemed to be a small army of
“bluejackets” surrounding the UNIT building.
She would cheerfully have bitten any of the men who held
her if she had the chance, but a broad strip of silvery tape had
been stuck over her mouth. She would have struggled more
forcefully, but more of the same material bound her arms
behind her back and her ankles together, leaving her quite
helpless. It seemed to harden in place like steel bands as soon
as it was applied. She had no idea how it worked, but it did its
job with undeniable efficiency, and the bluejacketed soldiers
or militia or whatever they were, had seemed ominously
practised in applying it. She tried to hold the anger in her
mind and not to dwell on what might come next.
Once in the shelter of the cluster of vehicles parked at the
end of the road, she was hauled upright for a moment before a
“bluejacket” who seemed to have more insignia on his
epaulets and cap than the rest. He gazed at her intently for a
moment, then consulted a red-bound book with gilded
lettering on it.
‘Yes, this looks like Shaw.’
Liz’s eyes widened.
He thrust his face eagerly towards her and spoke slowly, as
though she might be stupid or a foreigner.
‘Are you Doctor Elizabeth Shaw?’
Stunned, Liz could only nod.
‘Do you work for something called UNIT?’
She nodded again.
The man beamed in delight. ‘Right, that’s her. Well done.
Take her straight to St Paul’s. Hop to it, you don’t want to
keep them waiting, do you?’
‘No, sir – I mean yes, sir.’
A low, curved, six-wheeled van was waiting with its back
hatch open, flanked by two “bluejackets” mounted on motor
cycles. Inside were wire mesh cages with a single bench seat,
each just big enough to hold one person. She was pushed into
one of them. A seat belt was buckled across her waist, the
cage door closed, then the outer van door. The darkness was
not complete, and she realized there was a tiny barred window
behind her head. As she twisted round to try to look out of it,
there came the purr of an almost silent motor and she felt the
vehicle move smoothly away.
Liz had time for one last despairing glance before they
turned the corner and the besieged UNIT building disappeared
from view.
But one thought dominated over all the rest of her fear and
confusion.
They knew her name.
They had been expecting them!
Twenty
N
ancy was still in her bathrobe when there came a nervous
knock at the door.
It was Sternberg. As soon as she saw his face she could
guess what he wanted; why couldn’t the fool have had a little
more patience, she thought with exasperation. She could not
say so out loud, however. She had to play the role for a while
longer.
‘That will be all, Tilly, thank you. The Professor has kindly
come to see I haven’t suffered any harm from the handling of
that dreadful monster,’ she explained gracefully.
Once her maid had departed her manner became markedly
less relaxed.
‘What are you doing here, Professor? I told you I’d come
to your cabin later, so nobody would suspect. You don’t want
to spoil everything, do you?’
He mopped his brow – a habit that was beginning to annoy
her. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Grover, but I could not wait. You’ve no
idea what torture it has been for me to sit and stare at these
ampules and not be able to begin work upon them.’ He pulled
the ampules from his pockets and held them out to her.
‘Please! Show me the secret of how they are opened as you
promised.’
With a supreme effort Nancy restrained herself from
screaming at him. Through clenched teeth she grated: ‘You
were meant to keep them hidden in your cabin, Professor.
Suppose somebody wondered what those lumps in your
pockets were? How can anybody educated like you be so
dumb-stupid?’
The insult did not seem to register with him. He merely
continued to look at her with the same pleading light in his
eyes. She’d seen it before in fans desperately pressing forward
to see her, thrusting out their autograph books hopefully. It
made her feel angry, yet powerful at the same time.
Suddenly, as in the pit that morning, which seemed an age
ago now, something snapped within her. But it was not rage,
rather cold calculation and reason that flooded her mind. She
seemed to be looking down on herself and the pitiful man
before her as though from a great height, like Brokk had done.
She began to appreciate how puny they all must have looked
to him. It was quite understandable that he had used Ferraro
and herself in the way he had, forcing the Doctor to repair his
backpack and the soldiers to protect him from the Semquess.
And why not? After all his life was at stake. Self-preservation.
It was the only game in town worth playing, when you
thought about it. You used anybody and anything to win
through. And when you were done with them, or they became
a liability...
She suddenly smiled at the Professor, in the way that had
set a few million adolescent (and some not so adolescent)
male hearts beating faster in recent years.
‘I’m sorry, Professor,’ she said silkily. ‘I didn’t realize
quite what it meant to you. Sure I’ll show you, but you need
the right light to see what to do. Why don’t you sit down, and
put the ampules here under the lamp...’
She arranged him at a side table, then casually walked
behind him and leant over his shoulder, talking all the time.
His eyes never left the ampules.
‘It’s easy if you know how,’ she purred in his ear. ‘The
giant put the trick of opening them into my mind so I could
check the seals for him while he was carrying me through the
forest. These things were never made for those big hands of
his, and I could feel how anxious he was about them and how
valuable they were. But I fooled him when he ordered me to
put them back in his pouch again, and I dropped them into that
clump of ferns instead. You found them okay, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, they were where you said. Please, Mrs Grover.’
Nancy continued almost teasingly. ‘Then a little way on he
sees that other flying ship and gets all panicky and puts me
down in the tree. Then you all came along a few minutes
later.’
‘This I know, please –’
‘And I told you quietly, as we headed back, what I’d done
to try to make up to Amelia, and that you’d have to smuggle
the ampules on board because they could only be hidden in
pockets. But most of all, not to let on to anybody or they
might take them away again. Remember? And you did it all
very smoothly too.’ Her voice rose. ‘Except you can’t be
patient for just a couple of hours more. You have to know
right now!’ Her displeasure resurfaced forcefully, making him
flinch away from her.
‘I’m so sorry, but –’
‘Well never mind,’ Nancy calmed sweetly, abruptly
sounding forgiving once more. ‘Here’s where you get what’s
due to you, Professor.’ She pointed at one of the ampules.
‘See that groove there?’
‘Yes.’ Sternberg leant forward eagerly.
‘Well, you’ve got to give it a good hard knock – like this!’
Nancy swung the heavy marble ashtray she had picked up
as she had been speaking with all her strength. It connected
with the back of Sternberg’s head. Surprisingly quietly,
without any fuss, the little man toppled to the floor of the
cabin and lay very still.
For a moment Nancy stood over him in silence, looking
from his body to the ashtray, then let out her breath. So, it was
as easy as that. She’d never have guessed, considering the fuss
they usually made about it. There was just a dark pulpy stain
on Sternberg’s head and a smear of blood on the corner of the
ashtray. Remarkably little mess, considering. Wouldn’t even
have to ask Tilly to clean up. Tilly. Yes, she’d have to deal
with her next. It was not as she had planned, but perhaps it
would be good practice for the rest. In any case, she had to
move quickly now before Sternberg was missed.
Purposefully, she dragged his limp form into the bathroom
by the ankles and closed the door. She recovered the
improvised pouch from its hiding place and laid it on the table
beside the ampules.
For just a moment she felt an anticipatory shiver of doubt
and fear over what would come next, even though the shape of
it was lodged firmly in her mind. But her hands seemed to
take on a life of their own and unrolled the pouch so that its
precious contents spilled out. The sight reassured her, and
certainty returned. Smiling to herself, she pressed, squeezed
and twisted the lid in the correct sequence, and the ampule
containing the bubble of amber fluid opened smoothly.
There was nothing to fear, it was simply the ultimate
contract. It would be the best career move of her life.
Twenty-One
T
hey looked down in silence from the laboratory window
at the departing van carrying Liz, and the ranks of armed
men now surrounding the building.
The Brigadier, whether through instinct or training, had
resisted their natural impulse to charge on after the men who
had spirited Liz Shaw away through that unexpected doorway,
and Mike realized now that that hard decision had probably
saved their lives. He looked ruefully back at their own small
band. Seven men. Eight when Osgood, presently slumped
groaning in a chair, recovered from his crack on the skull. He
turned to the Brigadier and tried to keep his voice level.
‘The odds don’t look too good, do they, sir?’
‘Not that favourable, I admit, Yates. For the moment we
must stay alert, hold our present position, and try to plan some
strategy not involving an open confrontation.’
‘And Miss Shaw?’
‘If humanly possible, we shall attempt to rescue her. But if
our duty to our country and its people – to get them back
from...wherever they are – should require it, then she must be
abandoned. You understand? That goes for all of us if the
situation arises, myself included.’
Mike nodded, stone-faced.
‘But what can we do, sir?’ asked Farley.
‘Think!’ interposed the Doctor, with unusual fervour. ‘The
answer’s here somewhere. If we know what’s happened and
why, we’ll know what action to take.’
‘All right, Doctor,’ agreed the Brigadier, ‘do your best
while we have a breathing space. Our only advantage at the
moment seems to be that they can’t get at us effectively before
fading away into nothing. Most extraordinary thing I ever
saw,’ he admitted.
‘Yeah, what’s that all about, Doc?’ asked Benton. ‘And
how come their guns can blow holes in brickwork but only
give Farley a nasty turn?’
‘The intruders faded away because we must be in alternate
timelines, separated by that interface, and they simply did not
belong in this one,’ the Doctor explained. ‘Some
interpenetration is possible, but clearly only for a limited time.
The alternate lines are each trying, so to speak, to shape the
same fundamental building blocks to different patterns. The
patterns of those soldiers, or whatever they were, did not exist
in our little bubble of reality, so they simply vanished.’
The Brigadier paled slightly. ‘Would we fade away as well
if we stayed outside too long? And what about Miss Shaw?’
‘She still seemed okay when they were carrying her off,’
Benton said quickly. ‘By then she must have already lasted
longer out there than they did in here.’
‘Gratifying but puzzling,’ admitted the Doctor, rubbing his
chin. ‘But why the difference?’
‘What about those guns?’ Benton persisted, with soldierly
interest.
‘They appeared to project some form of energy beam,
which would probably be more susceptible to attenuation
inside the interface,’ the Doctor speculated, ‘so they only
delivered a relatively mild shock on this side of the divide.
Gross physical matter clearly lasts longer, but still fades in the
end. That is why all the light we see from outside is distorted
and seems paler than it actually is. Wait a minute...Light.
Energy. That’s why Liz didn’t fade. Artron energy!’
‘Translate for us, Doctor,’ pleaded the Brigadier.
‘A by-product of a simple unshielded time bridge. Liz must
have soaked some of it up. Combined with the interface effect
it’s stabilizing her. All of us as well, for that matter – even
you, Brigadier, having been close to the bridge for some
hours. I only hope it lasts long enough for us to get her back.’
‘Is it dangerous?’
‘Oh, no. Not at these levels.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ the Brigadier said dryly. ‘I
suppose we must be thankful that this wretched interface thing
exists at all, since it seems to be keeping us alive.’
‘Yes, but that still doesn’t explain why it’s here in the first
place. Every sign indicates an alternate timeline has absorbed
our own, but why not totally? And if it was caused by some
action of ours in the past, what was it, and why didn’t it take
effect immediately?’
The others looked helpless. ‘Sorry, Doctor,’ said the
Brigadier, ‘that’s the sort of question we usually ask you. All I
can say is that just about every rule I know has the odd
exception. Maybe this is one of them.’
The Doctor scowled in thought, then asked curiously: ‘Can
you find that report about Grover’s yacht surviving the
volcano, the one you relayed to me while we were by the pit
in the forest?’
‘Of course.’ The Brigadier went over to the table where the
papers and video tapes had been stacked and rummaged for a
moment. ‘Yes, here it is – wait a minute...’
Mike saw the strangest expression spread across the
Brigadier’s face and he sprang forward in alarm, fearing for a
moment his superior officer was having some sort of seizure
brought on by the strain of the situation. But the Brigadier was
simply staring at the paper sheet in his outstretched hand.
Mike’s gaze automatically followed his.
The words of the photocopied press report were blurring
and re-arranging themselves before their very eyes.
It was the strangest journey Liz had ever taken, if also one of
the most frightening. In every sense of the word she was being
carried helplessly into the unknown. Despair for herself and
the others threatened to overwhelm her, but with a deliberate
effort she concentrated instead on the cityscape flashing past
her.
The van and escort, blue and white lights flashing, did not
stay on the illuminated streets beyond the UNIT building for
long. Soon they turned on to a long ramp which led up to an
elevated roadway network that had never existed in the
London she knew. In minutes she had lost all sense of
direction. The limited angle of view she had through the tiny
cage window did not help, and all she could do was twist
about and snatch glances as they passed, trying to memorize
landmarks in case she had the chance to retrace her route. That
of course presupposed she would be free to do so. In her
present circumstances it seemed a forlorn hope.
They climbed by stages up more ramps to a dizzy height
and on to an aerial highway, a regular grid of crisscrossing
roads suspended between the great buildings. Some spur roads
she saw actually entered the great towers through archways
set ten or twenty floors up. In contrast below her was a web of
streets reminiscent of the old London. Even with the
illuminated road markings it looked like an undercity,
cowering in the shadow of the ruling elite who dwelt in the
towers above. Come on, she told herself, that’s just an old
cliche. Perhaps it was, but it seemed a very believable one at
that moment.
The few vehicles she saw on the road were all similar to
her own in their bulbous, streamlined styling and dark colours.
Were they all official vehicles travelling along reserved
official levels, or was there only one predominant make? She
saw no sign of any pedestrians. If there were any about at this
hour, she supposed they must be confined to their own
walkways at different levels. Unfortunately, these images of
uniformity and regulation only reinforced her instinctive
feeling that they’d arrived in some totalitarian society with
unknown, and possibly harsh, rules.
A society that already knew her name.
The Doctor was by their side in two long strides, reading over
their shoulders. He was in time to see the words of the report
re-form themselves into a new configuration. One key line
immediately caught their attention: ‘...also reported lost on the
island, along with several crewmen, was Professor Friedrich
Sternberg, of Zurich, Switzerland...’
‘But Sternberg got away with the others,’ said Mike. ‘We
saw him. Unless anything happened before he got back to the
ship.’
‘I swear to you, Doctor,’ the Brigadier said gravely, ‘that
there was no mention of this originally. It said quite clearly
that all the passengers on the yacht got away safely – I can’t
explain it.’
‘I can,’ said the Doctor, solemnly. ‘I think I understand it
all now. You were right, my dear Lethbridge-Stewart, there
are exceptions to the rule. That original information from
which that file was derived has been altered by an inherent
instability in time itself. One centred on Salutua at the point
we visited it. An uncharted temporal probability nexus.’
‘In plain English, please, Doctor.’
The Doctor looked mildly despairing.
‘The structure of time, loosely speaking, has a certain
“resilience”. That is, it resists and absorbs minor changes. If it
were otherwise, time travel would be far too dangerous. A
probability nexus, however, is akin to a ravelled knot in time,
where multiple strands of causality are exposed and at their
weakest, and where the smallest alteration to the course of
events can produce aberrant loops of existence, or even
entirely new alternate timelines. The facts I confirmed with
you, Brigadier, belonged to a different probability thread,
which is why they did not relate to the new reality outside and
are unstable, as you saw. It’s a temporal maze, which you can
never leave by the same route you entered.’
‘Wait a minue, Doctor,’ said Mike slowly, struggling to
understand the concept. ‘Earlier you said that couldn’t be an
alternate time out there because the changes happened
gradually.’
‘Normally that would still be true, but I should have
realized when Liz found the time bridge was still active what
had really happened. Because of the weakness of the nexus,
the bridge short-circuited the continuum, forming an
interactive parallel causality feedback loop. That world
outside has existed as a sort of shadow of ours over the
intervening years, an alternate probability only brought into
existence when the time bridge was powered right down the
last time.’
The Brigadier was looking pained and lost again. The
Doctor added quickly: ‘While the bridge is operating, which it
has been for some hours now, time here and forty years ago is
loosely but effectively joined together. Which is why the
changes only started here simultaneously with actions in the
past that had an effect on the timeline.’
‘When you saved Grover’s party in the forest, you mean?’
Mike suggested.
‘Yes, but even more likely when you rescued Amelia
Grover and discovered Brokk frozen in the pit, and initiated
the sequence of events that led to the conflict over the
ampules. The activities of two alien races on Earth at the same
time must have a significant influence on the instability of the
nexus probability pathways.’
Mike was now looking alarmed. ‘You mean, all this might
be my fault!’
‘It’s nobody’s fault, Mike,’ the Doctor said reassuringly. ‘If
you hadn’t found Brokk, somebody else in the party would
have. Or he might have lain there a few more years until
another expedition came along. There is unavoidable
coincidence within a nexus. Call it random destiny, if you
like.’
Mike wasn’t sure that he did. The Brigadier spoke up
firmly.
‘Doctor, now you seem to have worked this business out, is
there anything you can do here and now to put things back the
way there were again?’
The Doctor shook his head.
‘We would have to extend the time bridge field to cover the
whole world, and that would require more time, equipment
and vastly greater power than we have available. The only
alternative is to find out what the critical event is in the past
that was altered, and go back in time to negate it.’
‘Good. A clear objective at last.’ The Brigadier looked
relieved.
‘But we must get Liz back before we do,’ the Doctor said.
‘Why? Won’t she simply stay wherever they’ve taken her
while everything changes back to normal around her?’
‘Yes, but it will be a sudden transition. She might come
back occupying the same space as another object or person in
the restored timeline. Apart from being fatal to her, it could
cause a massive explosion. We must get her back!’
The Brigadier looked anguished but firm.
‘Doctor, you know I can’t let the safety of one person, or
even a handful, influence me, when literally the whole world
is at stake. I only wish it were otherwise.’
‘Well consider this,’ the Doctor pointed out. ‘They must be
taking her to see someone in authority for questioning, and
Liz will certainly try to find out about the history of this
timeline in return. She might have picked up some useful
clues as to how it came into being. Anything to pinpoint our
target will be a help. At the moment we can only guess it’s
linked with Grover’s party on the yacht, but nothing more.’
The Brigadier tugged at his moustache in deliberation.
Mike could see he wanted an excuse to attempt to rescue Liz,
but had to justify the risk. He watched him closely, hoping he
could learn something. One day such a decision might be his
to make.
‘Of course, if there was any way of getting Miss Shaw
back without further jeopardy, that would give us an operator
for the bridge. We’ll need everybody we can spare for the
mission team itself. But we haven’t much time and we don’t
even know where they’ve taken her.’
‘We can track her with the artron energy detector,’ the
Doctor said quickly. ‘She must be the only source outside the
interface.’
‘We’ve still got a jeep down in the parking bay,’ Benton
added enthusiastically.
‘But how far would those soldiers outside let us get in it?’
Mike pointed out. ‘We need a tank to even hope to get us
through that lot!’
As if to emphasize his words, blue light suddenly flickered
over the windows of the lab. Mike shielded his eyes against it
and peered out.
‘Well it looks like a tank is just what they’ve got, firing a
heavier version of that beam of theirs.’
‘They’ve found they can’t send men in, so they’re trying to
blast us out,’ exclaimed the Brigadier. ‘Doesn’t seem to be
working, though.’
‘It won’t,’ said the Doctor. ‘But how long before they
realize that, and resort to old fashioned material projectiles?
They could do serious damage before they faded away.’
Mike’s heart sank. ‘This dishes our chances of getting out
after Miss Shaw, though. We might be safe in here, but that
beam would go right through us on the outside.’
‘Maybe we can sneak out the back,’ Benton suggested.
‘Bound to be covered.’
‘It’s a pity we couldn’t take this interface thing with us,’
mused the Brigadier. ‘It’s the best defence we’ve got at the
moment.’
The Doctor suddenly beamed at him.
‘That is a splendid idea.’
‘But surely all this equipment is far too much to carry with
us.’
‘Yes, but we might not need to take it all,’ the Doctor said,
picking up an energy detector and striding over to the case
containing the twisted fragment of metal from Brokk’s
spaceship which was still wired into the time bridge tracking
controls. He held the device close to the case. ‘As I thought.
The fragment has been absorbing artron energy, and also has a
strong link through the bridge to the past where its previous
form also exists. If we carry this, and with the bridge on a
higher power setting, the interface will extend around it. That
should give us the protection we need.’
The Brigadier considered for a moment, then said
decisively: ‘All right, Doctor, we’ll give it a go. I don’t like
being cooped up in here, anyway, and it might divert their
attention from this building. We can’t risk the time bridge
equipment being damaged.’ He checked his watch. ‘We
haven’t much time, at the rate that interface was shrinking.
Two hours maximum. If we haven’t found Miss Shaw by then
we have to go back, regardless. Is that understood? Right, let’s
get started.’
The van and escort took a branch off the main roadway and
began to descend a similar series of long ramps and short level
straights. The analytical, questioning part of Liz’s mind
wondered why the pitch of the ramps was not more smoothly
graduated. The humps and dips between each stage of the
descent were quite pronounced. Perhaps they’d looked better
on the drawing board?
Then they were down amongst the ordinary streets again,
and entering some sort of broad square or plaza, ringed with
lights. She saw people for the first time. Crowds of them in
fact, turning their heads as the motorcycle riders flashed past
them. It must be eleven o’clock, so what were they all doing
here? Going home after some public gathering, a sports event
or concert? Then she realized that while some were
dispersing, others seemed to be forming queues in their place.
Perhaps there was a second performance due. As she got
closer she saw their clothes were all of solid colours but
varied styles, with one-piece boiler suits in blue and green
contrasting with tights and kilted tops in white and silver,
worn by men and women alike. The effect was striking, and
yet there was a curious lack of animation about the crowd as a
whole, as though they were performing a familiar ritual of
some kind. Echoes of Orwell’s 1984 mass hate sessions
skittered through her mind. No, the towers and the plaza were
too clean and bright for that analogy. Somebody was having
fun on a grand scale here, and there had been none in that
dystopia.
Liz suddenly realized how much more detail she could see,
as though the external reality was harder and sharper. She had
hardly been the detached observer while being dragged from
the UNIT building, but she recalled the lights and distant
structures had still been slightly blurred and unreal, even on
the other side of the interface. This might be another aspect of
the time change she was registering, but had she or her
surroundings changed? Did it mean time was still settling into
a pattern, and was that good or bad?
The van and escort swept past the crowds and pulled up
before a sweep of steps. The back hatch opened, causing Liz
to blink in the light. The inner cage door was unbolted and she
was lifted out. One of her guards bent to remove the silver
tape around her ankles, giving her a moment to look around.
Why on earth had she been brought here?
Rising from the middle of the great square was the
impressive bulk of St Paul’s Cathedral, illuminated by banks
of floodlights and seeming much as she last remembered it,
except that from the lantern at the top of the dome there
blazed a brilliant red light. The people in the square were all
either pouring into or out of the cathedral doors in a steady
stream. A few gave her suspicious sideways glances as she
was led up the transept steps, but otherwise pointedly ignored
her. She noted many were holding red books, like the one the
officer outside the UNIT building had referred to.
As she climbed the steps she saw where the light
illuminating the square was coming from.
Mounted about its perimeter were vast advertising
hoardings, perhaps a hundred feet high, the borders of each
one lit by thousands of bulbs. For a moment the images upon
them were still blurred, but resolved into sharper focus even
as she looked on.
Inexplicably, given the location, they seemed to be gigantic
film posters.
And the most prominent name and face on every one was
Nancy Grover’s.
Twenty-Two
T
illy entered the cabin in answer to Nancy’s bell.
‘Yes, Mrs Grover?’
Nancy was lying on her bed, a wet flannel folded across
her forehead and eyes. She was breathing unevenly and
looked deathly pale.
‘Ma’am, are you all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I don’t feel...too well, Tilly,’ Nancy replied faintly.
‘Shall I send for the Professor again?’
‘No. Please...just pour a glass of water and fetch some eau
de Cologne from the dresser to rub on my temples. That’ll
help.’
Tilly did as she was bidden. As she touched Nancy’s hand
in passing her the glass of water, she exclaimed: ‘You’ve got a
touch of fever, Mrs Grover.’
‘I feel cold...’
‘You must cover up,’ Tilly said briskly, pulling the
counterpane over her. ‘Some rum and hot milk is what you
need.’
‘The cologne first, please.’
‘Very well, ma’am.’
Tilly removed the flannel from Nancy’s forehead. Nancy
screwed her eyes tighter shut against the light. Tilly splashed a
little of the aromatic spirit on to her fingers and began to rub it
gently into her mistress’s hot skin. Then she frowned and
looked closer.
‘Why, Mrs Grover, have you been bitten by a mosquito or
some such? You’ve got a little –’
Nancy opened her eyes.
Tilly’s scream was snuffed out even before it began.
An hour later, when the ship was sleeping, Nancy let Tilly out
of the cabin. The maid headed directly towards the crew
quarters on the lower decks. She moved very quietly but with
an inner purpose. There was a slight distracted smile on her
lips. As she went, she rubbed her forehead as though it itched.
Nancy watched her go with a far deeper and more knowing
smile, then turned in the other direction.
David Ferraro woke suddenly from the depths of exhausted
sleep.
The eye!
No. He was safe in his cabin on the Constitution.
Dimly now he recalled two crewmen half-carrying him
there. He remembered looks of pity, disappointment and
incomprehension on their faces. He understood why. He had
deceived them: the whole crew, the ship. Because of his
weakness they had stayed longer than they needed on that
cursed island and more men had died. Because of him.
Ferraro tried to move and discovered he ached in every
limb. His hands were cut and blistered. The skin of his face
was tight and dried from the heat of the giant’s fire, his throat
and chest raw from smoke. But it was his pride that hurt worst
of all. He always thought himself a hard man, but he had been
used like a feeble-minded fool, callously and calculatingly:
first by Nancy Grover, then by the giant. He felt dirty inside,
as though he would never be clean again. The memory of that
terrible red eye boring into him would not go away.
He sat upright with an effort, shakily reaching for the mug
on the shelf at the head of his bunk.
‘Let me get that,’ said a cool voice.
He scrabbled for the light switch.
Nancy Grover was standing beside his bunk, smiling like a
cat. For a moment he gaped at her in amazement, then his rage
boiled over.
‘What’re you doing here? You have the brass-necked nerve
to...Get out of my sight you conniving bitch!’
‘David, that’s no way to talk, after all we’ve meant to each
other.’
‘Get out before I –’
Her eyes widened. Above them a light...
He shrank away.
‘No, please. Not again...’
‘Don’t worry, David. It’s all right.’ She was holding
something in her hand that glittered. ‘This time it will be
easier. This time, nothing will stop us.’
Twenty-Three
M
ike thought the space remaining in the parking bay
enclosed by the interface had shrunk noticeably since
he and Benton had last seen it. The curvature of the misty
curtain, where it cut through one side of the bay, was also
becoming apparent, as the bubble shrank back against the
pressure of reality from outside.
And he would be remaining inside it.
Benton, laden with assorted weaponry, headed for the jeep,
but the Doctor stopped him.
‘We’ll take Bessie,’ he said, carrying the fragment of
Brokk’s spacecraft over to his bright yellow Edwardian
roadster, and wedging its carrying case firmly in the foot-well
between the back seats. Mike saw the Brigadier roll his eyes
heavenward in dismay and grinned, despite the circumstances.
It was well known that the Brigadier hated riding in the highly
distinctive vehicle, which he considered an undignified means
of transport for an officer of his rank.
‘Wouldn’t the jeep be more suitable, Doctor?’
‘With the superdrive I recently installed, I think you’ll find
Bessie is somewhat faster. She also has a built-in kinetic
damping force field in lieu of seatbelts. I’m counting on that
to boost the interface effect.’
‘If you say so, Doctor.’ The Brigadier sighed, turning to
Mike. ‘All clear, Yates?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Keep the lights out after we’ve gone and lie low, and
maybe they’ll think we’ve all bolted. If we’re not back in two
hours, or the building comes under any threat, use the time
bridge. Board that yacht if you can and try to find out what
caused everything to go wrong, if it really started there. Then,
well, you’ll just have to use your initiative.’
‘Understood, sir. Good luck.’
The Doctor, Brigadier and Benton boarded the car, while
Bell and Parkinson positioned themselves by the big double
doors. Mike turned the parking bay lights out. Bessie’s engine
started with an almost inaudible purr. The doors were swung
slowly open, letting in a wavering shaft of light that shone
down the tunnel from the street archway. Bessie rolled
forward. As it reached the interface, which cut at an angle
across the end of the tunnel, it bulged out before it, like a soap
film being blown from a child’s bubble ring. A mobile and
oddly symmetrical cloud of mist seemed to form around the
antique car, which suddenly accelerated forward and burst
into the street like a greyhound from a trap.
Mike saw flashes of gunfire. He had a fleeting impression
that Bessie actually passed through a line of trestle barriers
without disturbing them, then it was gone.
The first figure Liz saw inside the transept doors was garbed
so oddly, that, in other circumstances, she might have smiled
and looked around for the rest of the fancy dress party.
Her robes resembled those of a nun, but they were bright
red, not black, with a silver sash tied about her waist,
emphasizing her figure rather markedly. She also displayed a
painted red circle on her forehead, bright red lipstick, long red
fingernails, and silver rings and bracelets. Blonde curls peeped
out from under her wimple.
It has to be a joke, Liz thought desperately, knowing that it
wasn’t. The woman moved with assurance and an
unmistakable sense of authority. Liz’s guards treated her with
every sign of respect, bobbing their heads diffidently.
‘Is this one of them?’ she enquired, looking at Liz with an
uncomfortably clinical interest.
‘Yes, Sister. She answers to her name, and the description
matches the one in the Book.’
‘What of the others?’
‘Er...we don’t know, Sister. Our Captain just told us to
bring her here straight away.’
‘You have done well,’ the pseudo-nun allowed. ‘We shall
take her now.’
Two other, younger, scarlet-robed women wearing green
sashes appeared out of the shadows and took Liz firmly by the
arms as the men withdrew. With their silver-sashed leader
sweeping before them, they passed through the transept and
towards the main body of the cathedral. Liz saw a wall of
glass had been thrown across the mouth of the transept,
separating it from the crossing under the dome. Beyond were
ranks of people apparently engaged in a service. Another
pseudo-nun came through one of the doors in the screen and
for a moment Liz heard the ethereal echo of chanting, though
not any words, and caught a whiff of incense.
She was led to one side along the aisle beside the nave,
which had been similarly glassed in. She had a glimpse back
into the cathedral choir. The choir screen had gone, and where
the high altar had been there now stood a 25 foot high statue
of a woman in long robes. A new rose window had been let
into the wall behind its head, formed solely of red-tinted glass.
From along the nave, she realized, it would appear as a halo
about the statue’s head. Slowly, the remorseless repetition of
the symbol began to penetrate her deeper consciousness,
bruised by too many shocks and revelations that day.
Red lantern, red window, red spots, red eye...
Dazedly, she was led past the ranks of worshippers to what
had been the chapel of St Michael and St George, now itself
divided from the aisle by a tinted glass screen and door. The
silver-sashed nun knocked diffidently, then entered. The
chapel interior had been cleared of all traditional religious
trappings and now looked more like a palatial office. A
massive desk sat in splendid isolation in one apse, while set
opposite was a chest-like device on which was mounted an
elliptical glass screen some ten feet across.
Behind the desk a scarlet nun sat in a high-backed chair. As
she straightened up Liz glimpsed a golden sash about her
waist.
The silver sister bowed.
‘This is Doctor Shaw of UNIT, Superior,’ she announced.
The Superior stared at Liz with undisguised fascination
until she squirmed uncomfortably in the grasp of the green
novices. She felt like something on a microscope slide.
‘So,’ she said at length, ‘the prediction is fulfilled. The
Goddess will want to see this immediately. She has been
waiting for news. Place her before the viewer and remove her
gag.’
As the Superior began tapping at a keyboard mounted on
her desk, a chair was set in front of the glass screen and Liz
sat firmly on it. The silver tape over her mouth suddenly
loosened and was pulled away. Before she could express her
feelings about her treatment, the screen opacified and filled
with colour. There was a brief theatrical fanfare of trumpets.
The scarlet nuns bowed their heads. An image appeared. It
was a full-length shot of a white-robed woman seated on a
golden throne raised on a dais, backed by a haze of light. The
camera zoomed in on her head and shoulders, the focus
softening slightly. She was an elegant late middle-aged
woman with immaculately coiffured blonde hair, and such an
apparently perfect complexion that it had to be the result of
hours of makeup.
‘Goddess,’ said the Superior in reverential tones, ‘she is
here as you foretold.’
The woman on the screen bent forward, narrowing her
eyes, presumably to peer more closely at the screen at her end.
‘I remember you,’ she said with satisfaction.
Liz mentally corrected for the nearly forty years that she
had bypassed through the time bridge and took a deep breath.
Yes, it was Nancy Grover.
Wrapped within its own bubble of counter-reality, Bessie flew
along the deserted London streets under the shadow of the
elevated roads and skyscraper towers. She moved like a
phantom. Above her, lights now flitted urgently across the
skies much lower than they had before, as though searching
for something.
In the back seat, Benton rested the mount of his heavy
machine-gun on the side armrest while gazing out in wonder
at the grey world of shadows just a few feet away. It was hard
to believe they were moving. Only a light breeze filtered
through the interface. Suddenly he jerked backward in alarm
as the image of a perfectly conventional car, complete with a
horrified driver at the wheel, materialized out of nowhere in
front of Bessie’s bonnet, flashed through like a wisp of fog,
and vanished again behind them.
‘What was that?’ Benton gasped.
‘Probability ghost,’ replied the Doctor, without taking his
eyes off the road. ‘An image from our timeline briefly
resurrected by the proximity of the interface. Almost the
reverse of the illusions seeping over from this timeline earlier
on. It’s reassuring to see it’s still there, even if only
potentially.’
‘Not quite the way I would have put it,’ retorted the
Brigadier, seated in the front beside the Doctor and holding
the probe of the artron energy detector extended beyond their
private bubble of reality. He glanced at the meter again.
‘Better turn left here,’ he directed.
The Doctor braked hard and took the corner on two wheels,
somehow not toppling Bessie over or throwing them through
the windshield, then sped on. Benton began to sympathize
with the Brigadier’s views about travelling with the Doctor.
‘We’ve been expecting you for a day now,’ Nancy said
mildly, still smiling. ‘Odd sightings reported all over the
world.’ She frowned. ‘There were lots of flashes of wars.
Have you really been fighting all this time?’
‘No, it just seems like it,’ Liz responded by reflex. ‘What
about you?’
‘Just once.’ Nancy looked smug. ‘My scientists said what
was happening might be due to some upset in time itself.’
‘We experienced the same thing, apparently,’ Liz replied
automatically. She was letting the words flow whilst thinking
furiously. ‘Images from your world, I suppose, or perhaps
from the altered past. People and places that had existed
appearing again. Things that didn’t fit in disappearing
temporarily. Interpenetration between the two realities
brought about by weak spots in the space–time continuum.’
‘You sound just like the people at the Sternberg Memorial
Institute, you know? They guessed the same thing. And that
got me thinking. You see, I’d never forgotten you.’
‘How touching.’
‘People from the future – but not my future, as things
turned out. They called that a paradox, and said you wouldn’t
exist now. But I played safe, just in case. I didn’t know when
you’d turn up, just sometime about forty years on, maybe in
London, you having been British. So I made sure everybody
would watch out for you. I even put your descriptions in the
Book.’
‘What book?’
The scarlet nuns around her started as though she had said
something outrageous. Nancy smiled tolerantly.
‘The book of my life story, of course. Everybody in the
world’s got a copy.’
‘Everybody?’
‘Of course. The whole world loves me.’ Nancy tilted her
chin up proudly. ‘I’m the greatest movie star who ever lived.
Do you know how many people saw my last picture? Five
billion!’
‘Most impressive,’ said Liz dryly.
‘It was directed by Larry de Veer and filmed by Hubert
Dodgeson, my favourite cameraman. Remember them?’
‘Like it was yesterday.’
Nancy blinked at her for a moment, then laughed rather
raucously. The scarlet nuns quickly joined in. Clearly
anything that Nancy laughed at was by definition funny.
‘That’s good,’ Nancy admitted. ‘Nobody comes back at me
with those anymore. ‘Course, it would be like that for you.
Anyway, they do all my pictures. You see, I never forget my
friends.’
‘What about your enemies?’
Nancy laughed again more lightly. ‘I don’t have any
enemies.’
‘Then what am I? Unless you usually have your friends
abducted at gunpoint and tied up.’ She shrugged to make her
point.
‘Release her,’ Nancy directed. One of the novices quickly
stepped forward and the band fell away from Liz’s wrists.
‘See?’ Nancy continued. ‘No problem. All I want from you
is that time bridge of yours. That’s what you called it, wasn’t
it? The things that happened over the last day have got the
eggheads all shook up. Now they say maybe I was right all
along, as if I didn’t know, and maybe all this is due to some
sort of time machine, and maybe it would be better if it
stopped working, because it could upset a lot of things if
somebody went back and tried to play around with the past.’
‘I can see that might bother you.’
Nancy smiled again. ‘But once we get that sorted out, you
could be okay here. This is a great place for scientists and
engineers. You and the Doctor could fit right in.’
‘But it wouldn’t be our world. This was never meant to
happen.’
‘Get it straight, Doctor Shaw. Your world’s gone. This is
my world now, and in it what I say goes.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Liz casually, ‘I wanted to ask you about
that. How did you do it?’
‘What?’
‘Everything. Develop all this new technology, establish a
personality cult and maintain it. How? Was it something you
found on Salutua?’
Nancy smiled. ‘A couple of things Brokk gave me did turn
out to be pretty useful.’
‘Gave you?’
Nancy chuckled. ‘I fooled you all, didn’t I, back there by
the volcano? You really want to know what happened?’
Liz swallowed. ‘Yes,’ she said levelly. There was an
ominous edge to Nancy’s words, but she knew she had to find
out the facts.
‘Then just watch.’
Nancy leant towards the screen and Liz realized that her
eyes glittered unnaturally brightly. A pucker opened in the
centre of her forehead as something pushed forward out of her
skull. The skin rolled back to reveal a bright, many-faceted
red gem underneath, gleaming like a third eye, two inches
across. There was an ecstatic moan from the green-sashed
novices, who fell to the floor, arms outstretched towards the
screen.
‘You see now?’ Nancy asked sweetly.
For a moment Liz felt sick. ‘What did he do to you?’ she
choked out.
‘Do? He only suggested. I did it.’ Nancy looked at her
contemptuously. ‘Why, don’t you think I had the guts? Just a
face and a body and a voice that sometimes slipped a little?
That’s all anybody saw!’ She spat the words out
contemptuously. ‘Well the joke’s on them now!’
Her third eye glowed balefully.
Liz felt the warmth pour from the screen. She couldn’t take
her eyes off it, and there was no Doctor around this time to
break the spell. The light bored into her brain. Her senses
swam. She realized now she had misjudged Nancy. What
she’d done had been right. Nancy was wonderful. She was the
most wonderful person in the world –
The sensation faded abruptly.
Liz found herself pressed up against the screen trying to
touch Nancy’s image. But Nancy’s third eye had closed now.
The novices were grovelling at her feet. With a shudder of
disgust, Liz pulled herself away and staggered back to her
chair again.
Nancy laughed.
‘That was just a sample. If you’re lucky enough to be
granted a personal audience you’ll get the full treatment. Now
do you understand how I made everything run my way?’
Nancy tapped her third eye. ‘Brokk’s in here. A bit of him in
every piece of brain crystal. When he realized he couldn’t
escape, he tried another line with me. The pictures he put in
my mind were getting better all the time and I caught on pretty
quickly. We made a deal. I’d keep part of him alive, and he’d
help me get what I wanted. One of the ampules that was left
had something in it that could join different types of life
together. Flesh and crystal. Sternberg carried them on board
for me, while I smuggled about a hundred pieces of brain
crystal Brokk broke off himself. What you saw going back to
his ship was just his body, running on what was left of his
brain to buy me time to get away. All the important stuff was
with me, sort of half sleeping. When I stuck the first crystal
into my head it hurt, but it was worth it. His memories and
ideas were all there to use. I practised on the ship. When we
got home, I started working on people. Turned the depression
round and in a couple of years we were running the country.
Then we built a fleet to spread the news around the world.’
‘You conquered it.’
‘No, we were welcomed. Everybody could see it was for
the best. Security and work for all. Once I’d got the key
people on my side, the rest followed easily enough. Besides,
my films had helped lay the groundwork. We had the best
colour process around by then, and the colour was a very
special red.’ Nancy grinned. ‘Anyway, we had to spread out.
The Semquess came back in ‘forty-one. Must have got wind
of the change here somehow. But by then we were ready for
them. It was some fight, but they never showed themselves
again.’
‘Quite a catalogue of success,’ Liz said lightly, though a
terrible sense of futility was growing within her. All she could
do was keep Nancy talking, because as soon as she stopped
she would be bound to use Liz as a hostage against the others
back at the UNIT building, if it hadn’t been taken already. But
then surely the Superior or Nancy would have been told?
Perhaps there was still a chance. Her one advantage was that
she must be Nancy’s best audience for years, and she clearly
enjoyed talking about herself.
‘Why the mock religion?’ Liz added quickly. ‘Wasn’t it
enough to be the world’s biggest film star without making
yourself a goddess as well?’
‘They voted me in, honest. Screen Goddess to Goddess of
the World was only a little step, really. And the Sisters of the
Eye are my representatives in capital cities. Why not? The old
religions were bunk. I’m real, and I deliver the goods. Regular
services remind people of that. The trimmings and costumes,’
– Nancy stiffened slightly – ‘they were my way of
remembering Amelia. I thought she’d...appreciate the twist.’
Liz felt cold. ‘What happened to Amelia?’
‘She got away from me,’ Nancy said flatly.
Liz understood. There could be only one way of escaping
from the effective ruler of the world. There was a dangerous
silence. Then Nancy snapped back as though the previous
question had not been asked.
‘Yes, the Sisters keep everything in order while we’ve
made progress you wouldn’t believe. Not just building grand
cities. With what Brokk knew put into the minds of the right
people we’ve made spacecraft that can actually fly to the
moon. My next film’s going to be about that, you know. And
soon we’ll have this hyperdrive thing worked out. And then –
he can go home.’
‘You mean Brokk? What, in pieces?’
‘We learned how to copy what was in the ampule. Took a
few years, but we can build a new body for him now.’
‘Will it really be as easy as that? Without his power, how
will you hang on to yours?’
‘The people love me for myself now. I don’t need it
anymore.’
‘That,’ said Liz, ‘is the first thing you’ve said that I don’t
believe.’
Nancy looked out of the screen in amazement and the nuns
gasped. Liz guessed nobody ever contradicted her. But before
she could respond, a signal beeped on the Superior’s desk.
There was a rapid murmured conversation, then the Superior
looked up at the screen unhappily.
‘Goddess, something strange has come out of the building
Doctor Shaw was found in.’
‘That place? Hasn’t it been taken yet?’
‘There was some difficulty with the barrier surrounding it,
but as it was shrinking, it only seemed a matter of time.’
‘Okay, so what came out?’
‘A vehicle, they think.’
‘Think? Can’t they tell?’
‘It seems to have...disappeared.’
‘How? You told me the place was surrounded!’
‘It was, Goddess, totally. But it passed through the cordons
as though it was...a ghost.’
Nancy’s face was darkening.
‘When did this happen?’
‘I regret, a while ago. The Peace Corps thought they could
intercept it with aircars promptly, without incident. But they
admit now they have lost track of it.’
Liz’s heart lifted. She should have known the Doctor and
Brigadier between them would think of something. Could she
buy them a little more time? Before Nancy could respond she
suggested, with unmistakable sarcasm: ‘Perhaps they didn’t
bother you with the news earlier because they love you so
much and didn’t want to burden you with more worries. Or
maybe not. People get scared to admit failure to deities and try
to cover up. You’ve heard the saying about absolute power
corrupting absolutely, I suppose? Well that’s the sort of world
you’ve built!’
They were all looking at her in horror. Nancy flushed
dangerously, her regal stance disintegrating.
‘You’ll regret that!’ she screamed. ‘Show her!’
The novices grabbed Liz’s arms, and despite her struggles
pulled her back to the wall. For the first time Liz realized
there were silver tape cuffs fixed to it. As she was secured, the
view screen swung around so that Nancy’s image faced her.
‘Do it slowly!’ she commanded. ‘Until she begs to serve
me.’
The Superior stood before Liz. The red dot on her forehead
expanded as the flesh rolled back, revealing a third eye
slightly smaller than Nancy’s. A thin red beam lashed out.
Liz gritted her teeth. It was a stinging sensation at first, not
real pain but the warning that it would get inevitably worse.
‘More,’ shouted Nancy impatiently. ‘I want to hear her
beg.’
Liz pulled futilely at the cuffs, knowing how immovable
they were. But she was determined not to beg.
Then her wrists started to move more freely even as the
pain of the beam began to diminish. Nancy’s voice seemed to
recede. Her hands slid through the cuffs and she fell forward
onto the hard floor, which somehow no longer felt as hard as
it should. Everything was going grey around her, becoming
less real. She could see the floor through her hands.
She was beginning to fade out of existence.
‘She’s in there!’ the Brigadier cried, as the dome of St Paul’s
rose before them.
‘Lummy! What have they done to the place?’ Benton
exclaimed as they raced across the huge square, people
scattering in soundless alarm before them like a bow wave.
‘Her signal’s getting weaker,’ the Brigadier announced
suddenly.
‘Hold on,’ said the Doctor grimly.
Bessie bounced as it struck the first step then surged
upward in a juddering rush, sending more bystanders diving
for cover. The great doors of the main entrance were wide
open and they plunged through into the hallowed interior.
‘Bear right!’ shouted the Brigadier. ‘Smoke grenades,
Benton!’
Bessie swung about, transforming several members of the
congregation into temporary wraiths as they passed through
them, and hurtled towards a towering glass partition wall.
Benton instinctively braced himself for the grandfather of all
crashes. It never came, but he felt a slight tugging resistance
as they passed through. He tossed the grenades out through
the interface. Billows of thick orange smoke erupted behind
them.
‘In there!’
They plunged through a second tinted glass partition into a
large oval chamber and screeched to a halt. Snatching up a
compact sub-machine-gun, Benton sprang out of his seat and
through the interface into the alternate reality again, covering
the four astonished, scarlet robed women before him. He
realized the Doctor was bending over a ghostly grey
translucent figure on her hands and knees. It was Liz Shaw,
Benton saw with horror. The Doctor was trying to help her,
but his hands slipped through her body. He could only urge
her to crawl the few feet to the car’s interface.
A red beam sprang from the gem on the forehead of the
gold-sashed woman full into Benton’s face, making him
stagger back blinded, dropping his gun. The Brigadier’s pistol
cracked and the light vanished. Benton’s vision cleared and he
saw the woman doubled over in pain, holding a bleeding arm.
‘I advise none of you to attempt anything like that again,’
the Brigadier warned uncompromisingly, clearly shocked but
undaunted by the display.
‘It’s like the giant at the pit!’ Benton gasped.
They heard the white-robed woman on the big glass screen
opposite them screaming with rage. Suddenly, red light blazed
from her eye-gem across the whole chamber. The Brigadier
froze, jaw suddenly slackening. Benton got his eyes down in
time, picked up his gun and fired a sweeping burst without
looking up again. Glass shattered, sparks flew. There was a
smell of burning insulation and the image disappeared.
Liz Shaw touched the interface shimmering like a bubble
around Bessie. The Doctor grabbed her re-solidifying hand
and hauled her into the back seat. Still covering the scarlet
nuns, Benton and the Brigadier tumbled back into the car. The
Doctor swung them around in a tight circle and they plunged
back out the way they had come, through the smoke and
partitions, out of the doors, bounding down the steps and
racing across the square again.
Liz Shaw struggled upright beside Benton as he held an
uncertain arm about her shoulders to support her.
‘You were just in time,’ she said weakly. ‘Thank you. But
listen, I know what happened now. We can stop it if we go
back and as soon as possible.’
‘That’s exactly what we intend to do, Miss Shaw,’ the
Brigadier commented dryly, peering up at the lights of the
delta-form craft diving at them out of the night. ‘Assuming we
get the chance, of course.’
‘They can’t touch us, can they?’ Benton asked. He
remembered the tug he had felt as they passed through the
glass partition.
As they left the square, beams of light lashed down from
the heavens, filling the car with dazzling hot light and blowing
a hole in the road before them. Only a ghost of the shockwave
reached them, but that was enough to send Bessie swerving
across the road, with the Doctor fighting to keep her upright.
‘Yes, they can touch us, Sergeant,’ the Brigadier replied,
clinging to his seat as they sped on.
‘The interface is shrinking,’ the Doctor explained. ‘The
artron energy must be almost exhausted.’
‘So we’re becoming vulnerable?’ demanded the Brigadier.
‘Yes, but only briefly.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘Because then we’ll begin to fade away like Liz,’ the
Doctor concluded grimly.
Twenty-Four
S
tabbing energy beams and reflected flashes of explosions
lit up the night beyond the interface. Mike peered out
intently through the laboratory window over the rooftops. Fast
moving lights in the sky were circling and diving over a spot
half a mile away, as though aircraft of some sort were
attacking a ground target.
And the focus of their attention was moving rapidly closer.
He spoke into his radio: ‘Bell, Parkinson. Get down to the
parking bay. I think they’re coming back. Be ready to give
cover if necessary.’
‘On our way,’ the radio responded tinnily.
Mike turned to Osgood, a shadowy figure in the gloom,
dutifully standing watch over the time bridge. ‘As soon as the
Brigadier’s team are inside, turn the power up to thirty percent
to reinforce the interface. Those “bluejackets” may not be
content to wait us out any longer, and might try something
desperate.’
‘Yes, Sarge,’ Osgood acknowledged mournfully.
Mike looked out at the cordon of men and vehicles closing
off the street below, which had steadily edged closer to the
building as the interface had shrunk back. Men were running
about and vehicles manoeuvring. They obviously knew what
was coming. Whether they had learnt anything from their first
brief encounter was another matter, but he was prepared to
even-up the odds if necessary. Resting on a convenient table
were a box of grenades, a heavy machine-gun and an anti-tank
launcher. He reckoned the projectiles should last long enough
outside the interface to do their job. Stealthily he checked that
the window latches were free. He didn’t want to draw
attention to himself any sooner than he had to.
Then aircraft swooped over the rooftops above them and
explosions blossomed in the adjacent street, eerily soundless
due to the muffling effect of the interface. Even as he
watched, rising machine-gun-tracer rounds stitched a graceful
arc across the sky and struck one of the darting aircraft. It
tumbled away across the rooftops and out of sight.
‘Good shot!’ he exclaimed fiercely, punching the air and
making Osgood jump. The remaining aircraft broke off their
attack and gained height. They were too close to their own
forces for safety now.
Then Bessie swerved into view around the corner at the
end of the street. The grey bubble that cloaked her hardly
extended beyond her front mudguards now and was much
more tenuous than he had seen it last. Through it he was sure
he could make out four figures. They’d done it! But Bessie
was now weaving across the street, driving around men and
vehicles as though it could no longer pass through them with
the same impunity that it had before. Mike saw an energy
beam flare off its bonnet as though it had struck something
solid, even as the muzzle flashes from within the shadowy car
told of returning fire and grenades blossomed in her wake,
keeping the besiegers at bay. She swung into a wheel-locked
about-turn as the Doctor desperately sought a clear path back
to the car park entrance. But there wasn’t one. The vehicles
and reinforced barriers formed a solid wall across the road.
Now for it, thought Mike.
He flung open the window and shouldered the tube of the
anti-tank gun. A rush of flame and smoke billowed back into
the laboratory as the rocket-propelled warhead sped away
through the interface. The front of a hulking eight-wheeled
transporter on the road outside disappeared in a silent blaze of
light. The concussion kicked the vehicle to one side and
toppled the heavy trestle barrier that had stood beside it. Even
before the smoke cleared, the Doctor drove Bessie at the
freshly opened gap. A fender grazed the wrecked transporter,
Bessie slowed, then they were through and hurling forward
towards the car park archway. As its tail lights disappeared
from view, Mike yelled: ‘Now!’
The mistiness of the interface thickened, briefly
challenging the outside reality. Mike allowed himself a deep
breath. That had been a close thing.
Bell’s voice spoke out of the radio. ‘They’re all safe and on
their way up.’
‘That’s fine. Keep your eyes open down there. Once our
blue-jacketed friends get over their surprise they may try
something.’
‘Understood.’
‘Thirty percent power,’ Osgood reported. ‘We won’t be
able to hold that level for very long though.’
‘Try to be exact if you can, Osgood.’
‘About...er, forty minutes, Sergeant.’
‘Well keep it there anyway until we hear the news from
Ghent.’
‘From where, Sarge?’
‘Never mind.’
Rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs and a moment later
the Brigadier hurried in, with the Doctor, Benton and Liz
Shaw following close behind. Their clothes and faces were
dusty and smoke-blackened, but otherwise they seemed to
have survived their dramatic return uninjured.
‘Well done, sir,’ Mike said to the Brigadier heartily. ‘Glad
to see you back safely, Doctor Shaw.’
‘The feeling,’ Liz said emphatically, ‘is mutual.’
‘Congratulations must wait,’ the Brigadier said sharply.
‘We’re not out of the woods yet and there’s no time to lose.
Thanks to Miss Shaw we know how all this nonsense started.
Our job now is to nip it in the bud. Doctor, can you control the
time bridge well enough to put us aboard that yacht?’
‘We’ll do our best, Brigadier. Come on, Liz.’
The two scientists set to work at the control panels. The
Brigadier turned to the others. ‘Get the rest of the men up here
while we re-arm, Yates. As soon as contact is established we
are going through. I just hope it’s not already too late!’
Nancy’s viewer screen flickered into life once more as a new
machine came on line. It revealed the pale, anxious features of
the St Paul’s Superior. There was a rough bandage about her
upper arm.
‘Did they get away?’ Nancy demanded, before the other
could speak.
‘Yes, Goddess, I’m sorry –’
‘Where did they go?’
‘Back to the UNIT building, Goddess. We tried to stop
them,’ she added hastily, ‘but their vehicle seems to have been
protected by the same kind of barrier that surrounds it.’
‘Haven’t you got round that yet? What about the old-style
artillery my scientists suggested using?’
‘We have contacted the museums, Goddess, but so far –’
‘Museums!’ Nancy raged in disgust. ‘Don’t you
understand? They mustn’t be allowed to go back in time and
change anything. Is the barrier still shrinking?’ The terrified
Superior could only nod. ‘Then blast everything as it becomes
exposed. Cancel the orders about trying to save the time
bridge. Take out the foundations, topple the building,
whatever, but stop them!’
Nancy broke the contact and sat back in her throne,
scowling. Her attendants and advisers started forward, but she
waved them away. She looked at their loyal but anxious faces,
and at the grandeur of the viewing room of her Hollywood
palace. She didn’t want to lose all this. She’d earnt it by
having the courage to do a deal with a monster. The memory
burned bright within her and she clung to it fiercely. She must
not forget, because while she remembered, it must still have
happened nearly forty years before...
It must be some awful nightmare, Amelia Grover told herself
again. In a minute I’ll wake up. Please God let me wake up!
‘Nancy,’ her father pleaded once more. ‘What’s happened
to you all? You’ve got to fight it.’
Nancy smiled down at them with a terrible delight. The
skin parted on her forehead again to reveal the red pulsing
gem beneath.
‘I’m not fighting anything, Marshal,’ she replied
triumphantly. ‘Everything looks just fine from where I’m
standing.’
Amelia turned her face away in fear and disgust.
She, her father and de Veer, all still in their nightgowns,
were huddled together on the chesterfield in the saloon of the
Constitution. Behind them, holding rifles, were a couple of
blank-faced crewmen. Before them were people they thought
they knew, now frighteningly altered. Montgomery, Dodgeson
and Miss Ellis sat placidly opposite staring vacantly ahead.
Tilly stood beside them, a smaller gem than Nancy’s sparkling
on her forehead. Her expression was more animate, but her
eyes kept flicking back to Nancy, as though constantly
looking for reassurance that she was following orders
correctly.
Ferraro entered. For a moment Grover started up hopefully,
a warning springing to his lips. Then he saw the gem on the
first officer’s forehead and sagged back again.
‘The Captain and the rest of the bridge crew are all under
control now,’ he reported to Nancy. Of the three gem-wearers,
there was no doubt who was in charge.
‘Thank you, David,’ Nancy responded politely. ‘That takes
care of everybody on the ship.’ She turned to the three on the
sofa with a smile. ‘Except you, of course.’
With an effort, Grover faced her squarely and tried to
sound reasonable. ‘Nancy, listen to me. You and the others are
somehow being influenced by those gem things. Think what
you’re doing. Let us help you get rid of them.’
‘Get rid of them!’ Nancy laughed. ‘Why would I want to
do that?’ She tapped the eye-gem bulging on her forehead. ‘It
hurt a little at first, but now I can see the possibilities.’ She
gestured at the remaining gem fragments and ampules laid out
on the table as though proudly displayed. ‘If I had enough of
those to spare I’d give you some to try yourself, then you’d
understand.’
Amelia shrank away instinctively. Nancy laughed at her
reaction.
‘Don’t worry, my dear stepdaughter, I wouldn’t waste one
on you,’ she said contemptuously. ‘That’s what I want to talk
about.’ Her expression became intent, and her words were
now directed at Grover. ‘I’ve got plans you never dreamt of
and you’re going to make them happen. I haven’t got enough
gems for everybody, and putting people right under makes
them obedient but sort of wooden, as you can see. So I want to
work delicately at first, and you’ve got the contacts I need.’
Grover looked dazed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Congressmen, industrialists, bankers – that sort. There are
deals that have to be made; new ideas to get started. You can
talk to them. And if they won’t deal, I bet you -know where
their dirty washing’s kept. You can find a lever on most
people if you want to.’
‘You know my father doesn’t do business like that,’
Amelia protested feebly.
‘But he will for me.’
‘You’re planning something evil. I know you are!’
‘Good, evil. That’s all you see, but they’re just words. I
want to make things break my way, that’s all. Think I want to
be a dictator? Hell no! Matter of fact, life’s going to get better
for people all over the world, once we spread our influence.
Isn’t that the sort of thing your God keeps promising? Well
I’m going to make it happen!’
De Veer had gathered his wits by now and spoke up:
‘Nancy Norton – altruist and beneficiary of all mankind? I
don’t believe it. With you there has to be a price.’
Nancy shrugged. ‘Sure there’s a price, but it’s not too
steep. Can’t you guess? All I want to be is famous. I want
everybody to know my name and star in the biggest and best
pictures anybody ever made. I might even let you direct me
again, Larry, once you’ve apologized for what you said the
other day. Tell me what’s so bad about that?’
‘Being turned into a zombie!’ de Veer retorted.
‘Not zombies! I just look for what people really want, and
make them realize they’ll get it if they do what I say for a
while.’
‘That’s how the giant got into your mind, I suppose.’
‘We made a deal, fifty-fifty,’ Nancy insisted. She jerked
her head towards the three silent figures. ‘Don’t worry, they’ll
come out of it when I want them to. By then there won’t be
any reason to complain. Take Mike Montgomery here. I’ve
forgiven all the digs he made in the past. He can still make
films with me. Isn’t that true, Mike?’
Montgomery smiled vaguely at her. ‘Yes, Nancy. I’m
looking forward to it.’
‘Of course he won’t get top billing any more, but he was
getting past it anyway. He can play my father next time. And
Dodgeson can film them.’ She tapped her third eye again, a
gesture that made Amelia shiver. ‘Some of the stuff in here is
going to make movies better. Improved cameras, film and
processing. He’s going to have a ball.’
‘And that justifies what you’ve done to them?’ Grover
retorted.
Nancy smiled. ‘There’ll be no more war when my system
gets going, because to build the factories and laboratories for
what Brokk needs takes peace and organization. What’s left of
him has to settle here for a while, so it’s got to be safe, see?
Now Miss Ellis, for instance, lost somebody important to her
in the Great War. I could see it in her mind. So she’s not going
to kick against it, are you, Miss Ellis?’
Miss Ellis’s face became wistful. ‘It would be wonderful,
Mrs Grover. I do hope you can make it happen.’
‘See?’ said Nancy pointedly.
Grover shook his head wearily. ‘Whatever you’ve done to
these poor people, I still won’t help you. Maybe you can
hypnotize me too, but what deals do you think I can make in
that state?’
‘You will,’ Nancy said ominously.
Obeying some invisible command, Montgomery and
Dodgeson stepped forward and caught hold of Amelia. Grover
and de Veer started up, only to feel rifle barrels grinding into
their backs.
‘No!’ Amelia pleaded with them. ‘Please let me go!’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Grover,’ Dodgeson said, ‘but this is really
for the best.’ She was dragged over and forced to kneel before
Nancy. Through her horror she heard Nancy’s voice, suddenly
as clear and cold as ice.
‘Amelia’s going to be my constant companion from now
on. I want to show her how to get results by doing instead of
praying. Don’t worry, I’ll treat her properly – as long as you
help me, Marshal. But if you try anything funny, well, I might
put the eye on her and start teaching her tricks. Dangerous
tricks.’
‘You couldn’t be so cruel!’
‘Don’t give into her, Father!’ Amelia shouted. ‘Don’t
worry about me.’
‘See,’ Nancy said, ‘she goes on about self-sacrifice all the
time. She’s practically begging for it. What’s one life against a
whole world at peace, all pulling together. Don’t you want
that?’
‘Of course, but not this way. Not at your price!’
‘It’s the only game in town, but suit yourself.’
Amelia felt Montgomery tilt her head backward until she
was looking into Nancy’s glittering third eye. Before she
could turn away or close her own lids, it began to glow.
Helplessly, she began to slip under its spell.
The Consitution steamed onward, its lights glittering across
the dark ocean, under a sky still two-thirds overcast by the
smoke and ash thrown up by Salutua’s eruption. Then out of
the night a disc of light appeared, flying along the line of the
yacht’s spreading wake, wobbling slightly as it went.
In the laboratory, they watched the image of the yacht within
the time bridge coil grow larger.
‘I can’t improve the stability,’ the Doctor warned. ‘We may
have to jump for it when we get over the deck.’
‘Do the best you can, Doctor,’ the Brigadier said. ‘Get
ready,’ he warned his squad. ‘Osgood, you will stay here and
assist Miss Shaw. It is vital that the power supply to the bridge
is maintained, you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Osgood replied.
The Doctor handed over the controls to Liz and turned to
face the small group gravely.
‘Remember, we won’t know if this timeline has been
restored to normal until we are all back here safely, without
leaving any more loose ends in the past. Whatever happens,
the ampules and any fragments of eye-gem must be recovered
or totally destroyed.’ He turned to Liz. ‘Don’t bother trying to
hold it over the deck after we’ve gone through. Pull back a
little off the stern. At over ninety percent power and line of
sight at least we can use the radios this time, so we’ll let you
know when we want to be picked up.’
‘I understand.’ Liz tried to sound cheerful. ‘Go on – and
good luck.’
As she spoke the laboratory lights flickered and died,
leaving the room illuminated by the hazy glow from the street
and the instrument lights now drawing solely on the
accumulators. Torches snapped on and a match flared as the
Doctor lit an emergency hurricane lamp.
‘That’s the generator room gone,’ Benton said.
‘The rate of interface collapse must be accelerating,’ the
Doctor exclaimed.
‘Isn’t the higher power slowing it?’ Liz asked.
‘Apparently not, just making it denser.’
Then lights flared outside the windows like multiple
starbursts. They felt the building tremble.
‘They’re trying to knock the ground floor out!’ said Mike.
‘We must move now,’ the Brigadier said firmly. ‘Miss
Shaw, will you be –’
‘Don’t worry about us,’ replied Liz, adjusting the steering
controls to bring the far end of the bridge bobbing over the
stern deck of the Constitution. ‘Do what you’ve got to do. Just
remember there’s only about fifteen minutes of full power
left.’
‘Follow me,’ commanded the Brigadier, drawing his pistol
and taking up his position in front of the image coil. ‘Yates,
you’ve been there before so be ready to guide us.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The others lined up behind him, with the Doctor bringing
up the rear, adjusting his sonic screwdriver thoughtfully. He
flashed Liz a reassuring smile as she fought to hold the bridge
steady. As it passed low over the deck, the Brigadier jumped,
rolled as he struck the deck, and was back on his feet again.
The others piled through after him.
Liz pulled the bridge away until it hovered unsteadily ten
yards off the stern.
‘Corporal Osgood?’ she said.
‘Yes, Doctor Shaw?’
‘Could you light a few more lanterns or candles. It might
make the place a bit more cheerful.’
Silent explosions blazed outside. The building trembled
again.
They were making their way towards the bridge when they
saw the lighted windows of the saloon. Mike signalled
questioningly and the Brigadier nodded. They edged stealthily
along the promenade deck and Mike peered in.
Nancy Grover was standing arrogantly in the middle of the
room, a red gem set on her forehead. In front of her was
Amelia Grover. She was holding a knife rather stiffly. Even as
he watched, she dreamily started to bring it up towards her
own cheek.
Mike kicked open the saloon door and plunged inside, his
gun pointing directly at Nancy. The Brigadier and the others
poured in after him, fanning out to cover the astonished
company within.
‘I am Brigadier Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart of the United
Nations Intelligence Taskforce,’ the Brigadier’s commanding
tones rang out, pistol steady in his hand. ‘I am placing this
ship under martial law.’ He glanced across Tilly and Ferraro
until his stern gaze rested upon Nancy. ‘I do not normally
threaten women, but I have already seen what those gems can
do. I assure you I will shoot if you attempt to use them.’
Nancy recovered from her surprise and smiled sweetly.
Amelia dropped the knife from her cheek and turned to
face the UNIT force. She started towards them, the blade held
out stiffly before her, even as Montgomery, Dodgeson and
Miss Ellis quickly stepped in front of Nancy, shielding her
with their bodies and allowing her to take a few paces back to
join her fellow gem-wearers. The two sailors standing guard
on Grover and de Veer began to swing their rifles round. Mike
felt a stab of horror. How could he shoot innocent people,
mere puppets?
‘Not this time,’ said the Doctor, stepping forward and
thrusting out his sonic screwdriver. A small mirror was now
mounted on the end. As he thumbed the control a shrill
warbling sound pierced the air and the mirror began to spin
rapidly, sending a flickering light into every corner of the
room.
The thralls reeled back, clutching their heads, sinking to the
floor as the control pattern in their minds was disrupted.
‘Good show, Doctor!’ said Mike.
But the distraction had been enough.
Nancy, Ferraro and Tilly were now standing at the far end
of the saloon, their eye-gems glowing. A haze of light seemed
to fill the air, concealing them from sight. Out of this, pencillike beams stabbed at the UNIT force. One struck Parkinson
on the cheek, causing him to stagger backward, gasping in
pain.
‘Take cover!’ yelled the Brigadier.
They dived behind the furnishings and began returning fire
blindly into the glowing fog as the eye beams stabbed at them,
not daring to risk looking at the hypnotic light directly. Bullets
tore holes in the wood panelling and shattered bottles and
glasses in the bar, while eye beams set soft furnishings
smouldering.
‘Watch out for the others!’ the Doctor yelled.
‘Aim high,’ ordered the Brigadier.
But even as they returned fire, a window shattered from the
outside and a rifle thrust through and blazed at the UNIT
soldiers. Mike sprayed a burst of fire in return, peppering the
window, and the rifle disappeared. A face appeared at another
window, but the Doctor swung his flickering de-hypnotizing
light around and it fell away before joining the battle.
‘The rest of the crew must be under their control already,’
snarled the Brigadier. ‘We’re trapped in here!’
Through the image coil they could see the sparks of gunfire on
the ship, and the vague shadows of men running across the
decks. Liz drummed clenched fists on the console. A battle
was clearly taking place, but they could only watch helplessly.
The UNIT building shook again, more violently, reminding
her they had their own problems. The flashes of energy beam
fire from outside seemed to be getting brighter. She checked
her watch against the power levels. Eleven minutes left.
Osgood suddenly gave a strangled gasp.
‘Look, Miss Shaw!’
The far wall of the laboratory was slowly fading into misty
darkness.
Sheltering behind the scattered islands of tables and chairs,
Grover and de Veer, leading Nancy’s dazed former puppets,
scrambled into view on hands and knees and joined them at
the far end of the room. Mike saw with relief that Amelia
looked shaken but unharmed. Benton noted their appearance
with a look of satisfaction. He unclipped a grenade from his
belt and held it up for the Brigadier to see. He nodded. Benton
tossed a grenade into glowing mist. An eye beam vaporized it
in mid-air with a flash and mild bang, as the explosive was
consumed before it could release its full power.
‘Their aim’s improving,’ Mike observed.
‘How long can they keep this up?’ the Brigadier demanded.
‘For quite a while, I’m afraid,’ said the Doctor: ‘Look!’
The haze of cordite and the smoke from the small fires
started by the eye beams was flowing across the ceiling
towards the impenetrable red glow at the opposite end of the
saloon, while a chill draught was blowing back at them over
the floor. Frost was forming on walls.
‘Their metabolisms must have been altered to power the
crystals, allowing them to draw heat from their surroundings.’
‘I believe you, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier. ‘How do we
stop them doing it?’
‘Can’t you do something to them with that gadget?’ Benton
asked hopefully, nodding at the sonic screwdriver.
‘Only if they give me time, and I can get close enough,’ the
Doctor replied, looking about him intently. His eye settled on
a large gilt-framed mirror screwed to the wall a few feet away.
‘Give me some cover!’ he requested, pulling the tiny mirror
adapter off the end of the screwdriver. He caught Grover’s eye
as he huddled behind a lounge chair, with Amelia sheltering in
his arms. ‘Would you assist me, Mr Grover?’ The other took a
deep breath and nodded.
As the renewed fusillade of shots rang out they scrambled
across to the wall mirror and the Doctor reached up with the
screwdriver. With a shrill whine, the screws began turning out
of their sockets. ‘Get ready to catch it,’ the Doctor warned.
The mirror swung loose, then dropped off the wall into their
arms. They dragged their burden back to the Brigadier.
‘Try not to shoot me in the back,’ the Doctor requested,
hefting the minor upright like a shield. As the firing renewed,
he raised himself into a crouch behind the mirror and started
to edge forward, holding his sonic screwdriver at the ready.
The interface had passed through the laboratory windows
now. The panes had instantly shattered under the
bombardment from beyond. Liz and Osgood unconsciously
shrank back within the ever-dwindling circle of reality.
Eye beams stabbed at the Doctor, and were reflected back into
the red haze from his mirror shield. He advanced steadily up
the length of the saloon. The beams lashed out frantically.
Enough heat was absorbed to begin cracking the glass,
scattering the beams in odd directions. He was on the edge of
the haze as the wooden backing began to smoke. He activated
his sonic screwdriver and held it over the top of the mirror, its
pitch cycling up and down the scale. Like Salutua’s giant bats,
he was probing for the critical frequency.
Suddenly there were cries of pain from within the red haze.
‘Stop firing!’ he yelled.
Liz and Osgood had backed up against the control console.
The interface had swallowed half the room and was
contracting more rapidly as they watched. Beyond were the
vague shapes of soldiers and flashes of light. All that was left
of the laboratory was the time bridge equipment and the
TARDIS, seemingly floating untouched just beyond the
shrinking zone of reality. Not quite in our world or the other,
thought Liz. Will it survive our passing? What will it feel like
to cease to exist? She had been saved on the brink of
dissolution earlier. This time it looked as though there would
be no reprieve.
Then the interface shivered violently.
‘Hold your fire,’ the Brigadier ordered.
The Doctor held the critical frequency as the echoes of
gunfire died away. The killing beams ceased and the red glow
faded. The fierce circulation of air in the saloon calmed and
the smoke began to thin. The Doctor abruptly switched off the
shrill sound, leaving a ringing silence in their ears. Nobody
moved.
The smoke drifted out of the shattered windows, revealing
the bodies of Ferraro and Tilly sprawled on the deck. The
sockets that had held their third eyes were empty. Glittering
shards of crystal lay about them. Nancy was still on her feet,
but swaying unsteadily. One hand was clutched to her side. A
dark stain was spreading over her dress where one last bullet
had found its mark. Her eye-gem was starred with cracks.
Tiny ruby fragments began to fall to the floor with the drops
of blood.
She took a stumbling pace towards them, then another. She
was crying – whether for herself or her lost dream, none could
tell. Her tears mingled with the disintegrating crystal
fragments and ran down her cheeks. She stretched out her
arms towards the table on which lay the remaining gems and
the two Semquess ampules, dusty but untouched by the battle.
The last fragments fell from the now empty socket of her third
eye. She toppled forward, overturning the table as she struck
it, scattering the gems into the air to fall about her like a
shower of sparkling confetti.
Then she lay still.
In Hollywood, Nancy felt the time wave surge through the
years to engulf her, and knew she had lost.
Probability adjusted to a new pattern.
She saw the palace and the world beyond break up like an
infinitely complex jigsaw torn apart by a blast of wind. People
and golden chairs and marble columns tumbled away, fading
as they went. Dimly she heard the voices of her subjects
pleading with her.
‘Goddess – help us...’
Then they were gone into the silence.
It hurt to be unable to grant that last wish.
‘I can’t go like this!’ she raged into the nothingness. ‘Not
when I’m on top of the world...’
A grey veil closed about her and then she was beyond
regret.
She had never existed.
The Doctor stared at the three bodies, and everyone in the
room felt the depth of his bitterness. As Amelia and her father
stood over Nancy’s still form, they heard him say: ‘Such a
waste. If only there had been some other way.’
The Brigadier spoke up with weary pragmatism.
‘Unfortunately there wasn’t, Doctor, you know that. It was her
life against our world.’
‘But her world has died with her,’ the Doctor reminded him
gently. ‘I doubt if it was all bad.’
The Brigadier pulled out his radio. ‘Miss Shaw? It’s all
over. You can probably power-down temporarily while we
tidy things up.’
Liz’s voice came back sharp and urgent.
‘No it isn’t all over, Brigadier. Something’s terribly wrong
here!’
Twenty-Five
A
s the billowing, shimmering interface settled down, Liz
and Osgood began to make out the world beyond once
more. At first it seemed to be in total darkness, but gradually
their eyes adjusted and they saw a full moon hanging high
above them and a faint glow marking the horizon. But all the
rest...
‘Ruins!’ Liz gasped into the radio. ‘There’s nothing left
outside but ruins.’
The twenty foot bubble of reality that encased the remains
of the laboratory was now perched, open to the sky, on top of
a crumbling pile of masonry that might once have been UNIT
headquarters. The skeletons of other buildings thrust jaggedly
up about them on all sides, stretching as far as they could see
under the cold moonlight. A city of rubble-choked streets and
decay. A city that had been razed to the ground and
abandoned years ago.
Her shoulders sagged under cumulative exhaustion and
despair. After all their struggles, they’d failed. Then the
Doctor’s voice came on the radio, jerking her back to her
senses with a series of rapid questions.
‘Liz? Can you see any sign of the towers that were there
before, or even the remains of them as substantial piles of
rubble?’
‘What? Er...no. Nothing that big.’
‘Any lights at all?’
‘No, none.’
‘Any trees or weeds?’
‘Uh...yes, there are, growing up through the rubble. Quite
large ones.’
‘Any radiation? Can you put a geiger counter through the
interface?’
‘Just a minute.’
On one of the few remaining racks of shelving was a geiger
counter. At Liz’s direction, Osgood picked it up and gingerly
thrust the sensor through the interface. The count was normal.
‘Radiation level normal,’ Liz reported.
There was a moment’s silence, then the Doctor said: ‘Liz,
your end of the bridge is now in a completely new loop of
time, one that must have branched radically years ago. Clearly
something is wrong at this end. How much power have you
got left?’
‘About eight minutes at full output.’
‘Reduce to thirty percent and watch for a visual signal.
Over and out.’
In the shattered and smoke-hazed saloon of the Constitution
the Doctor telescoped down the radio aerial to find the
Brigadier gazing at him with grim resignation.
‘I recognize that expression, Doctor,’ he said. ‘Tell us the
worst.’
‘Our timestream has not re-formed. Until we find out why,
we are all still in grave danger!’
Grover, standing beside Nancy’s body while being
comforted by Amelia, looked up at him on hearing the word,
incomprehension in his haggard eyes. ‘Danger? I don’t
understand, Doctor. What else can happen? Haven’t we
suffered enough?’ He gestured at the dazed survivors.
The two crewmen had been despatched to check that the
rest of the ship’s company was also free of Nancy’s influence,
but Montgomery, Miss Ellis and Dodgeson were still in the
room – deeply shocked and trying to come to terms with the
way they had been used. De Veer was trying to reassure them.
‘There is still a piece of grit in the cogwheels of time, Mr
Grover,’ snapped the Doctor, looking about intently.
‘Something that is already beginning to influence probability.
Something here that has been altered or does not belong. But
what?’
‘Well, there’s the gems,’ Mike pointed out, looking at the
scattered fragments on the floor, ‘and the ampule. But
nobody’s going to use them now, are they? We can just take
them back with us like you said.’
‘Ampule!’ exclaimed the Doctor, stooping and picking up
the glass cube containing the small bubble of red fluid. ‘Only
one? Where’s the other? Search around, everybody. It’s vital
that we find it!’
The urgency in his voice galvanized everyone in the room,
and in moments furniture and debris were being overturned.
‘Here’s the cap,’ said Mike, retrieving it from under a club
chair.
‘But where’s the bottle itself?’
‘It’s here,’ said Amelia sadly, ‘beside poor Nancy.’ She
stooped, reaching out for the ampule which was half-covered
by a fold of Nancy’s dress.
‘Don’t touch it!’ commanded the Doctor, making Amelia
jerk her hand away in alarm. He crouched beside Nancy
Grover’s body and carefully drew aside the fabric. The
ampule had been resting upended and was now completely
empty. The lighter stain of the Semquess drug mingled with
the dark pool of blood on the richly patterned oriental carpet,
flowing out under the scattered eye-gems.
The Doctor took a step backward, his face ashen. ‘It’s too
late. Get back, everybody!’ Uncomprehending, but odedient to
the force of his words, they retreated to the far corner of the
saloon. ‘Benton, fetch that oil lamp. Anything that will burn.
Fire might still stop it if we’re quick. Mr Grover, order your
crew to prepare to abandon ship –’
‘Doctor, the floor!’ Mike yelled.
The deck rippled and bulged up under the Doctor’s feet,
sending him staggering backward. Before their horrified eyes,
Nancy Grover’s body had simply dissolved away into the
carpet, which started to swell and bloat outwards. The
scattered eye-gems sank into the pile, melting into veins of red
fire, which spread like questing tendrils, pulsing with life.
The deck plates groaned, and the whole saloon trembled.
‘Everybody outside!’ ordered the Brigadier.
It was too late.
The tendrils spread across the deck and up the walls,
dividing into finer branches as they went. The heavy saloon
door, which had been opened to let out the smoke, suddenly
slammed shut by itself. Farley tried to turn the handle but it
was stuck fast. Benton reversed his gun to knock out the
remaining glass in one of the windows opening on to the
promenade deck, but the frame seemed to crumple inward,
pinching shut and almost trapping his gun. He leapt backward
with a curse.
‘My God, Doctor!’ the Brigadier rasped. ‘What’s
happening? What was in that ampule?’
‘It must be a highly concentrated genetic catalyser, capable
of combining grossly different forms of organic and inorganic
matter into a hybrid lifeform. In this instance, Nancy Grover’s
body with Brokk’s eye-gems and the structure of this ship!’
‘You mean, this whole place is coming alive?’
‘Putting it simply, yes!’
The saloon walls buckled slowly, as though unused
muscles were being flexed for the first time, springing wood
panelling free and showering pictures and ornaments to the
floor. The stoppers popped from the ends of the rack of
speaking tubes mounted on one wall. They heard the tiny
voices of Captain Pascoe and McCloud shouting in alarm.
Then the tubes broke free of their fastenings, writhing like
snakes before tying themselves into knots, and the voices were
silenced. From below decks the throb of the engines changed
as the pistons faltered, then took on a slower, pulsing rhythm,
like a monstrous heartbeat.
‘Everybody take cover!’ the Brigadier ordered. ‘Yates,
Benton, get rid of that door!’
The two sergeants armed grenades simultaneously and
tossed them both at the base of the door before ducking down
behind the chesterfield. The double explosion rocked the
room, making their ears ring and filling it with more smoke.
The doorway was reduced to a shattered wreck of splintered
wood and twisted ironwork.
‘Right, out on deck,’ yelled the Brigadier.
But even as he started forward, the crystal veins around the
doorway framework began to pulse brighter. Metal flowed
like wax. The gaping aperture contracted like a sphincter
muscle until there was only a tiny pucker remaining.
‘Shall we try the service door, sir?’ Mike asked.
‘It’ll be just the same,’ said the Doctor.
‘Then I’m open to suggestions,’ admitted the Brigadier.
There was a more prolonged groaning noise. Every plate
and beam in the ship seemed to vibrate. The red veins began
to pulse faster.
As Liz and Osgood watched through the hovering portal, a
dull red glow shone through every window and port on the
Constitution. The ship lost its headway and began to wallow
in the swell. There was also something strange about its lines,
almost as though it were – changing?
Liz turned up the power and grabbed the radio.
‘Hallo. Doctor, Brigadier. What’s happening? Where are
you?’
The Doctor’s voice came back quickly. ‘Liz, keep clear and
save your power. We’re trapped in the saloon, but you can’t
reach us now without completely re-setting the bridge, and
that would be fatal. We’ll have to work this out for ourselves.’
‘But what’s happened to the ship?’
‘It’s been contaminated by the Semquess drug Nancy
Grover was using. It’s metamorphosing! Doctor out.’
Liz and Osgood stared at each other incredulously.
‘There must be something we can do!’ Liz said.
She was simply giving vent to her feelings. She didn’t
seriously expect Osgood to supply any useful suggestions.
Creativity was not his strong suit. But suddenly she saw his
face brighten, as though inspiration, against all probability,
had struck home.
‘Well, miss,’ he suggested tentatively. ‘There is what
happened when we were dumping the warning leaflets...’
Even as the Doctor closed down the radio, the ship groaned
once more, and the deck bucked sharply, knocking them off
their feet. Plate-sized blisters appeared in the walls, floor and
ceiling, swelling as they watched, forming pointed cones,
steadily extending into sharper stabbing spikes. It was like
being inside a cave, thought Mike, even as he turned about
desperately searching for some escape. A cave where the
stalactites and stalagmites protruded from every surface, and
they grew not by inches over centuries, but inches in seconds!
They saw the bodies of Ferraro and Tilly at the end of the
room impaled, before mercifully being hidden from sight
behind a lattice of spikes. Montgomery picked up a fallen bar
stool and broke it dramatically over the nearest spike, as he
must have done with prop chairs in a dozen westerns. The
sharp tip broke off, but the stub re-shaped itself into a fresh
point as they watched. De Veer and Dodgeson pushed a heavy
lounge chair over another spike, but it stabbed through the
upholstery like a knife.
The UNIT force’s guns and grenades rattled and blasted,
but the damage was swallowed up in seconds. Inexorably,
they were driven into the shrinking free space in the middle of
the room, stepping around those spikes already erupting
through the floor.
Suddenly the Doctor was calling for quiet.
‘Brokk? Nancy Grover? Can you hear me?’ he shouted, his
words echoing round the saloon.
‘What are you trying to do?’ demanded the Brigadier.
‘Wait – listen,’ said the Doctor.
The pain had gone, Nancy realized with gratitude, but so had
light and sound and touch.
Was this death?
Was she in limbo, or was she headed for Amelia’s precious
afterlife? Time to repent after all? Maybe if she really
tried...No! She’d be damned if she’d pretend to come over all
righteous and proper again. She’d probably be damned
anyway, of course.
Then she realized she wasn’t alone. Something was in here,
wherever here was. It was coming after her. It was alive.
How she wished she could run, but she no longer seemed
to have legs.
Then it was upon her and tearing into her mind.
And then she began to feel again.
Though she had no voice, she screamed.
The spikes wavered then halted their growth, as the ship
groaned and trembled about them.
The grating of tortured metal became more rapid, running
up and down the scale, melding into more complex structures
of tone and sibilance. Then they became harsh, almost
unrecognizable words, reverberating from the very structure
of the ship itself.
‘Nancy...Brokk...aural recognition symbols...I...we are, am
them...me...’ The voice was uncertain and seemed to have
trouble establishing its pitch, and its intonation was erratic.
Suddenly it was full of panic: ‘Let me out of here! Amelia, I’m
sorry...’ Then it changed: ‘You are me, thrall.’ Then: ‘No!
Help! Please...’
The voices trailed off into incoherent sobs and
indescribable roars, before descending into the creaks and
groans of the ship once more. Amelia had shrunk into her
father’s arms, while Grover himself looked at them in
horrified disbelief.
‘That was Nancy?’
‘The Nancy you knew is dead,’ said the Doctor solemnly,
‘but the pattern of her thoughts has obviously survived.’
‘But the other voice?’ asked Mike.
‘Brokk. Using Nancy’s knowledge to speak in sounds, not
modulated electromagnetic wavelengths. Enough of the gems
must have been absorbed to reconstitute his memories and
personality.’
‘They are actually alive in here?’
‘Two minds inside a hybrid, makeshift body, unfamiliar to
both of them. On top of that they have both suffered
considerable trauma. They are alive, but in the circumstances I
rather fear the experience has affected their joint mental state.’
‘You mean they’re mad?’ Benton said bluntly.
‘Brokk, Nancy?’ the Doctor called out loudly and quickly,
to cover Benton’s words. ‘Can you hear me?’
There was a pause, then a groaning ‘I...we, are here.’
‘Why are you trying to harm us?’
‘Harm? Harm!’ The walls suddenly boomed at them. ‘I am
surviving. That is natural. This new form demands it. I want to
be famous...No! I will organize these primitives and shape
their technologies until they can build a new vessel for me.’
The composite voice seemed to be arguing with itself.
‘Somehow I doubt you will get the cooperation Nancy
Grover managed when she tried a more subtle approach,’ the
Doctor commented. ‘In any case, that option is closed off to
you now. You’re not what you were, and don’t know what
you are, yet. I don’t even think your new personality is
organized enough to attempt mass hypnotism any more, is it?’
There was what might have been a growl.
‘I recognize you. Doctor, help! You repaired the
giant’s...my, life-support pack. You are different from the
others. You will help me...us, be a star. No!’
‘You must understand that your presence will devastate
this world if you go on as you are. We have had a report from
the future, we already know this. But it is not too late to
change. I have a proposal –’
‘No proposal. No more talking. I am strong, I am a Grold,
Nancy, whatever my form. I was beautiful! No! I will survive.
You will all...applaud...be absorbed!’ The voice trailed off
into mad laughter.
‘Absorbed?’ exclaimed the Brigadier.
‘We are what we eat,’ replied the Doctor grimly. ‘Brokk
and Nancy have become a hybrid of metal, crystal and flesh. It
needs more of the same to feed and grow. The new future has
begun. A timeline where this body grows uncontrollably until
it destroys civilization!’
The spikes were beginning to close in again, the longest
meshing in the centre of the room even as they twisted
frantically about to evade them, breaking off the tips with the
butts of their guns.
‘Can’t you zap them with your screwdriver again, Doc?’
Benton shouted, flailing at the bristling spines.
‘The crystals are too dispersed to resonate now!’
They were fighting a losing battle.
Then there was a flash of light.
They had a momentary glimpse of the time bridge portal
flying through the wall and ceiling at one end of the saloon,
then it was gone again. The ship trembled, convulsing with
rage and pain. The insane dialogue rumbled on about them.
‘It hurt, it hurt! Control yourself! Let me go. We are Grold.
I’m frightened!’
Where the portal had passed there was now a gaping
tunnel.
‘It’s Liz!’ said the Doctor. ‘She’s using the time shear
effect about the periphery of the portal as a blade.’
‘And in the nick of time!’ commended the Brigadier. ‘If
she can make the next pass a bit closer, we can get out of here
before the hole has a chance to close.’
‘Unfortunately,’ the Doctor snapped, pulling the radio from
his pocket, ‘it’s the most foolish thing she could have done!’
The section reamed out of the metamorphosed ship erupted
from the mouth of the imaging coil like toothpaste from a tube
and slithered across the laboratory floor, almost knocking
Osgood over as he leapt out of the way. The leading edge, a
section of white painted bulwark, slid out through the
interface bubble and down the pile of rubble beyond as Liz
planned. But instead of following, the rest of the crumpled
metal and wood broke free and ground to a sudden,
unexpected halt.
Glowing veins pulsed through its length.
Then it started to writhe.
‘Liz!’ the Doctor’s voice came out of the radio resting on
the console. ‘The whole ship is alive! Cutting it up may not
kill it...’
Even as he spoke, metal tentacles were emerging from the
sides of the cylindrical mass and oozing out towards Liz and
Osgood. Although not directed by high intelligence in its
partial form, it still had the same basic instinct to absorb and
grow. Osgood, appalled at the consequences of his inspiration,
snatched up a grenade from the box Mike had left.
‘Don’t use that in here!’ cried Liz.
One of the thing’s tentacles reached out and Osgood
skipped aside, looking at her helplessly.
‘But what can we do?’
Liz’s brain raced. They dare not risk damage to the bridge,
so they couldn’t fight it inside the interface bubble, but what
other choice was there? Unless...
‘Outside!’ she snapped at an astonished Osgood.
‘But we can’t exist for long –’
‘I know. But it’s the only chance we’ve got. Grab the
grenade box and move!’
With a few last words shouted at the radio, Liz dived
through the interface bubble into the night and stumbled down
the rubble slope after Osgood. Like a giant, ungainly worm,
the thing followed them.
‘We’ll try to lure it outside and outsmart it,’ Liz had shouted,
then she was gone.
The Doctor stared at the radio in his hand in dismay, even
as about him the ship recovered from the shock of losing part
of itself. The spikes extended inward again.
He looked up into a ring of desperate faces. Even the
Brigadier was looking at him expectantly – clearly ready to
fight to the death, but hoping that he wouldn’t have to. With
the air of one playing the last card he held, the Doctor drew
the remaining ampule from his pocket, twisted and pulled
until the lid came free, then held it dramatically aloft.
‘Release us or I’ll use this!’
The spikes hesitated.
‘Now! Withdraw! We’ve nothing to lose!’
Slowly the spines shrank a few feet, then halted.
‘You do not know...tell me, please...what the serum will
do,’ rumbled Brokk–Nancy.
‘I don’t have to,’ the Doctor countered. ‘I saw how much
the Semquess valued the ampules, but I wasn’t quite sure
about you. Now I know. And I suspect this ampule is the most
valuable of them all. There only seems to be one dose in it. It
must be very special.’
They felt the whole monstrous quasi-organism around them
hesitate uncertainly.
‘Or perhaps dangerous,’ the Doctor suggested, tilting the
ampule slightly. ‘Shall I try some on you?’
‘No!’ the response was echoed by a cacophonous grating of
beams and hull plates. ‘You do not understand its power. It is
death and life. Keep it away! It is the ultimate reward, if you
have the strength to use it.’
The Doctor frowned at the intensity of the words. He tilted
the ampule upright again.
And Brokk–Nancy laughed again. It was not a pleasant
sound.
‘There, you dare not use it on me...us...for fear I might
survive its effects. Maybe I shall take the risk...No! Though it
is not in my plan, just to prove my...our...superiority. You
cannot dispose of it within me...us. The only way of denying it
to me is to take it yourself. But if you die you achieve nothing,
and if you live you fear what it will make you, what lies
beyond. I...we...see this through the woman’s...Nancy, my
name is...eyes and mind, do not deny it. Even she...Nancy...did
not fear power... I could have been the greatest...Go ahead.
Prove you are as strong as we.’
As the Doctor hesitated, the spikes resumed their inward
advance. ‘So, you will all be absorbed,’ the ship boomed
around them with awful finality.
Amelia Grover snatched the ampule from the Doctor’s
hand.
Before they could stop her she had tipped it down her
throat, then closed her eyes and clutched the tiny silver
crucifix around her neck.
The ship reverberated with the ghost of Nancy’s voice.
‘You would do it! You would!’
The encroaching spikes suddenly recoiled, as though
reflecting the cry of alarm. Grover clasped Amelia to him as
she arched her back in a spasm of pain, her eyes opened wide
in fear. Her lips moved as though she were trying to speak.
Then she slumped within his arms and was still. The Doctor
reached over and felt for the pulse in her neck, then looked
into Grover’s anguished eyes.
‘I’m so sorry...she’s dead.’
The worm-thing crashed across the ruins, starting minor
avalanches of decaying bricks and rotting beams rolling down
into what had been a London side-street, even as Liz and
Osgood scrambled up the next pile of rubble. They were fifty
yards from the lights of the lab, glowing within the interface
bubble that sat amid the ruins like a misplaced Christmas tree
bauble. They dare not go much further.
‘What are we doing, Miss Shaw?’ Osgood panted.
‘Looking for something.’
‘What?’
‘That!’ Liz pointed to the jagged remains of the side of a
building, rising from the summit of the next hill of rubble.
‘Didn’t you ever read Boy’s Own? Come on!’
‘She’s dead? Just to spite me. It failed!’ boomed the ship’s
voice.
Grover hugged Amelia’s body to him, rocking her back
and forth like a child.
The spikes edged forward for the last time. Everybody beat
against them with gun butts, broken furnishings, feet or bare
hands. But they could not be stopped. Dodgeson cried out as a
spine stabbed his flailing arm. Bell cursed, holding a hand to a
gash on her thigh. In moments they would not be able to move
without impaling themselves like so many butterflies in a
display case.
It was strange, seconds from death as they were, that they
all heard Grover’s sudden gasp of astonishment so clearly.
The worm-thing wriggled and clawed its way through the
ruins, driven on by its basic urge to absorb and grow. It sensed
one of the food sources had slowed down, allowing it to get
closer. With a rippling surge and flailing of tentacles it closed
in upon the creature as it cowered in a valley between the
rubble heaps.
There was a multiple explosion.
Several tons of free-standing brickwork toppled over and
smashed the worm-thing into the ground.
Osgood slithered down to join Liz and they edged past the
remains of the thing. A pseudo-tentacle twitched from under
the remains, but nothing else moved.
‘It worked!’ gasped Osgood.
‘It always did in Boy’s Own,’ said Liz. ‘Now let’s get back,
there’s hardly any time left.’ They stumbled away towards the
bubble of alternate reality that encompassed the laboratory
and all that was left of their own world.
But as they ran, the dead landscape around them began to
grow fainter and sounds receded.
Liz saw her hand grow pale, then the bones showed
through. Osgood was fading too. The ground became rubbery,
her pounding feet no longer gripping the surface but sliding
through it. It was like some terrible dream where all action
became futile and time clung ever tighter and heavier. Despite
her efforts she was moving slower and slower. Just ten yards
short and they were going to fade away, she thought, wanting
to rage and cry out, but no longer having the strength. It was
over. Well, they had done their best. There were probably
worse ways to die. They collapsed as silent wraiths at the base
of the last slope, sinking slightly into the uncaring earth.
Then a voice said: ‘You can do it. Believe in yourself.’
It was a voice without doubt. Liz did not question where it
came from, simply accepting certainty and hope in a few
simple words. For a few seconds she believed more
passionately than she had ever done, defying the forces that
were erasing her very existence.
Yes, there was still traction to be found against the rough
ground, if she dug deep enough, Liz decided. No, she was not
going to fade away! She reached out and grasped Osgood’s
thinning arm and squeezed until he yelped in pain. And
somehow they were hauling themselves up the pile of
insubstantial rubble and clawing their way through the
interface.
Reality hardened about them as they lay panting on the
floor.
Liz desperately wanted to rest, to sleep, but she grasped the
edge of the console and pulled herself upright, her eyes
flashing immediately to the power gauge. There must only be
seconds left.
It read full-charge.
As her dazed mind fumbled for some explanation, she saw
movement through the imaging coil. The bridge was floating
fifty yards from the ship now. Figures were pouring out on to
the stern deck, while others climbed down into two lifeboats
bobbing in the water. The Brigadier’s voice came through on
the radio.
‘Miss Shaw! If you can hear this, pick us up now!’
The bridge seemed to steer more responsively and she
drove it forward at top speed. As she did so, the light from the
Constitution’s distorted portholes turned from red to white. It
was as though a sun had ignited within it. Reflections glittered
out across the dark ocean, brightening until beams of almost
solid radiance cut through the air. She had to squint and shield
her eyes as she brought the portal over the twisted deck
planks. The light shone through the coil, casting long shadows
out through the interface and over the wasteland beyond. Then
silhouettes eclipsed the light as the UNIT force scrambled
back hastily through the portal.
‘Get clear of the ship,’ the Brigadier ordered crisply, the
last to come through.
‘What about the others?’
‘They’ll be all right,’ the Doctor said reassuringly.
They swooped over the lifeboats manned by a handful of
sailors, all rowing hard. In the first boat was a Chinese cook,
Pascoe, Montgomery, Dodgeson and de Veer. In the second a
maid, Miss Ellis and Marshal Grover, looking back at his
abandoned yacht.
‘Where’s Amelia...and Nancy?’ Liz asked in alarm.
With the oddest expression on his face, the Doctor said:
‘Patience.’
Jagged tentacles, like those on the worm-thing, erupted
from the sides of the yacht, further distorting its twisted lines,
and flailed about wildly, slashing at the water. Then a pure
white star rose from the tangled mass, growing into a radiant
sphere of light. Spikes extended from the tentacles as they
reached up to stab at the sphere, but it dodged them easily.
Red veins glowed all across the yacht and flowed together,
concentrating into a ragged red eye. A beam of ruby light
lashed upwards at the white sphere – and was absorbed as if it
had never been.
Then the thing that had been the Constitution began to fold
in upon itself, as though it was made of card and foil and was
being crumpled up by some invisible hand. Pseudo-tentacles
thrashed and flailed to no avail. It was moulded into a
wrinkled ball twenty feet across, lifting out of the water as it
did so. As it hung there its wrinkled surface distorted and
rippled, and a face appeared on the side. It was a parody of
Brokk’s features, his single eye flickering feebly. The sphere
turned slowly in the air, and they saw there was a second face
on the other side. It was Nancy Grover’s. Her mouth was
opening and closing, but no sound came forth.
The sphere of light gently glided down to hang low over
the lifeboats and their astonished passengers, only a few yards
from the floating portal of the time bridge. The sphere
distorted and flowed, resolving itself into a new form.
It was Amelia Grover.
They felt wonder, but no fear.
A glow still surrounded her. She was dressed in flowing
white robes. White wings extended from her shoulders,
beating slowly and gracefully. There was a perfectly serene
smile on her face as she looked down at her father, and he in
awe at her. Expressively she held out her hands to him.
Hands.
Liz realized her missing arm was now perfectly restored.
She spoke, and Liz knew where the voice that had urged
her on amid the ruins had come from, though how she would
never understand.
‘Well, Pa,’ Amelia said, smiling, ‘I guess you got your way
in the end, more or less. I’m all complete again. Poor
Professor Sternberg, what would he think if he could see me
now? You see, I was never destined to take his treatment after
all, at least, not how he was planning it. The funny thing is it
doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t quite explain, but this feels
right. It was meant to be like this.’
Grover fought for words. ‘Please...Come down now, Amy.’
A trace of sadness entered her voice. ‘Sorry, Pa. There’s a
price. Like you always said in business, nothing’s for free. To
destroy evil I had to get on a higher plane, to go beyond
earthly life – and there’s no turning back. I can’t stay. I don’t
belong here anymore.’
‘No! Amy, you must stay – I love you!’
‘Of course, Pa,’ she said simply, ‘I know that. And I love
you and always will. But I’ve changed in ways you cannot
imagine and I see now that things are more...complicated than
I thought before. I feel I have a purpose, a duty, but I’m not
sure what or where yet. I’ll just have to find out for myself, I
suppose. Don’t worry, I’ll take Nancy and Brokk with me. I
guess I’m responsible for them. Maybe, when I learn more,
they can be separated again.’
Grover slowly dropped his imploring arms and hung his
head in mute despair.
‘No, don’t be sad for either of us, Pa,’ Amelia insisted
gently. ‘This is simply the way it has to be. I’ll be fine, and so
will you. Please, Miss Ellis, look after him for me?’
The mousy secretary rallied magnificently, even though
there were tears in her eyes. ‘You know I will...Amelia.’
‘And you’ll all be picked up safely soon. There’s a ship
just an hour away. They believe they’ve just heard a radio
distress call saying the Constitution is sinking from that tidal
wave. There have been – casualties. I think that’s the best
story to tell.’
Grover, beyond words, nodded dumbly. Miss Ellis took his
hand. Amelia smiled at them, and then across at the other
boat.
De Veer managed a dazed but understanding smile in
return. Dodgeson was absently feeling for a camera about his
neck that was no longer there. He realized what he was doing
and suddenly grinned ruefully. Montgomery threw a practised
wave of farewell that was half a salute.
‘Be a real star, kid,’ he said.
Amelia turned to where the Doctor was standing in the
mouth of the portal, and regarded him with a kindly, curious
intensity.
‘Now that I can see you properly for what you are,’ she
said, ‘I think you understand why I’m leaving like this. We
are a little alike now, Doctor. We both have a destiny not
entirely of our own choosing, and much work to do. We may
meet again, somewhere, someday. Until then, thank you, and
goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, Amelia, and good luck,’ he replied.
‘And goodbye to you, Liz Shaw, and especially to you,
Mike. I’ll never forget how you saved me from the spider in
the pit.’
Mike, standing beside the Doctor, managed a wave, but
could find no words to say.
Amelia dipped low over the lifeboats, touched her father’s
head with a kiss, smiled at Miss Ellis, then rose upward,
dissolving once more into a simple sphere of light as she went.
The grey ball that was Brokk–Nancy ascended with her. The
two dwindled rapidly in the night, up through a rift in the
volcanic clouds, and disappeared in the glittering heavens
beyond.
During the long silence that followed, the lifeboats drifted
gently away into the night. On the distant horizon, the lights
of a ship appeared.
In the remains of the laboratory, the Doctor stepped over to
the control console and solemnly shut down the power to the
time bridge. The image in the portal vanished as the door to
the past closed. For a moment the interface bubble
shimmered, then expanded out of sight, sweeping out across
the ruined world.
And reality shifted for the last time.
Twenty-Six
T
he familiar lights of London twinkled through the
laboratory windows. The UNIT building, whole and
complete once more, buzzed with its usual activity. The
Doctor and Liz sat drinking army-strength tea, while the
Brigadier spoke on the phone.
‘Yes, sir, not a fresh sighting or unusual incident reported
anywhere for over an hour...I hope so too, but actually I
wanted to tell you...What?’ The Brigadier raised an ironic
eyebrow in the direction of the Doctor and Liz, then seemed to
hesitate before saying: ‘Yes, isn’t it remarkable how these
things sometimes work out all by themselves...Naturally, we’ll
stay on alert for a few days...Goodbye, sir.’
The Brigadier replaced the receiver and turned back to the
scientists with a curious expression on his face.
‘Oh, well, he’ll just have to read my report, like the rest of
them. Though how I’m going to explain it all I don’t know.
Odd thing. Scobie seemed rather vague about what had been
going on, yet he was quite well informed before.’
‘Because now it never happened, Brigadier,’ the Doctor
replied genially.
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Doctor. Of course it did. People
actually died.’
‘Their deaths will be put down to other causes. The
impossible illusions will be forgotten. The nexus is closed, at
least as far as we are concerned, and history is tying up the
loose ends. In a few days all the sightings and the ghosts from
the past that never was will seem like a bad dream. Even the
physical evidence will adjust to accommodate a slightly
modifed reality.’
He held out a copy of the press cutting from Canberra. The
Brigadier glanced over it:
MILLIONAIRE’S YACHT SUNK BY PACIFIC
VOLCANO!
...among those lost in this terrible tragedy were Marshal
Grover’s wife – the famous screen actress Nancy Norton –
and Amelia Grover, Mr Grover’s daughter from his first
marriage...
‘It’s changed again!’ the Brigadier exclaimed.
‘That is now the correct history for this timeline.’
‘But, does this mean we’ll forget what happened as well?’
‘No, we were part of it. We passed along both alternate
loops of time and through the nexus. But you may save
yourself the trouble of writing that report. Nobody will believe
a word of it.’
As the Brigadier considered this novel suggestion, Yates
and Benton re-entered the room.
‘All injuries seen to, and other personnel and equipment all
present and correct, sir,’ Mike reported with satisfaction.
‘Good. At least something is as it should be. No problems
with explaining the disruption?’
‘They didn’t even know they’d been gone, sir,’ Benton said
with a sigh. ‘Just saw the lights flicker for a moment.’
‘I see. Well, you’d better take yourselves off duty. You
deserve it, both of you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Mike. ‘But there is one thing I’d like
to ask the Doctor first.’
The Doctor smiled enquiringly at him. Mike suddenly
looked uncomfortable.
‘About what happened to Amelia Grover in the end. What
we saw. I mean, did she actually become – an angel?’
‘Yes, Doctor,’ agreed the Brigadier. ‘The most
extraordinary thing of all, and you haven’t explained it. Makes
one wonder what was in that last ampule. It wasn’t an illusion,
was it?’
‘No, it all happened as you saw it.’
Mike frowned. ‘But, if she actually became an angel, does
that mean there really is a –’
‘Faith, Mike. That is real. She had a boundless reserve of
faith and belief, and the drug she took released it and gave it
form. It must have been the most potent pantropic formulation
the Semquess have ever created. No wonder they wanted it
recovered or destroyed. I really must have a word with the
Time Lord High Council about them, when we get back on
speaking terms again. Anyway, the drug allowed a mind to
totally re-shape its body. Psychic regenerative transformation.
But only if the mind was totally free first, and the only means
to achieve such a release was through death. Taking the drug
would be a tremendous gamble, because it requires great
strength of will to survive such an experience. Naturally for
Amelia, with her strong religious convictions, to go beyond
death meant becoming an “angel”, and they, as we know, are
traditionally supposed to possess remarkable capabilities. The
energy required to sustain such abilities does exist naturally,
and she can now instinctively draw upon it and channel it as
she desires. What Amelia will do next, I’m not sure. But, I can
think of few people I’d rather trust with such power, can you?’
‘No,’ agreed Mike, quietly, ‘I can’t.’
‘I do feel sorry for her poor father,’ Liz said.
‘His loss, Liz, but the universe’s greater gain. We can only
hope he will take some small comfort in that.’
There was a contemplative silence, and a slow shuffling of
feet as they prepared to move. Then the Brigadier paused.
‘Oh, yes. Doctor, Miss Shaw. There was something I
wanted to say to you, and I’d better do it now, just in case I
forget.’
‘There’s no danger of that, Brigadier,’ the Doctor said
quickly. ‘Tomorrow will do.’
‘Nevertheless,’ the Brigadier persisted, ‘I just wanted to
say – thank you, for all you’ve done.’
There was an apprehensive pause.
‘That’s all?’ said Liz, cautiously.
‘And,’ the Brigadier continued forcefully, ‘to point out to
you, Doctor, that this is the second time your improvised time
machines have landed you in serious trouble! Don’t make it a
case of third time unlucky. The sooner you stop messing about
with these Heath-Robinson contraptions and get your
TARDIS working properly again, the better! Do I make
myself perfectly clear?’
They held their breath, expecting some protest or sharp
riposte from the Doctor. Instead he replied, almost meekly:
‘You know, my dear Lethbridge-Stewart, I think you may be
absolutely right!’